Be Careful Making Wishes in the Dark
by Jaywings
Summary: "So we have a deal, then?" There was something in Bill's tone that Dib wasn't sure he liked, but he pushed the feeling to the side. If this was a chance to expose Zim, he had to take it. Nothing else he'd tried had ever worked. "Yeah."
1. The Summoning

A/N: Another crossover! I'm still working on Now You're Thinking with Real Science, but this has been in my mind for a while and wouldn't go away. It's not going to be too long-I'm thinking maybe five chapters or less. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it :)

Also, this does have Bill in it, so it may occasionally have a touch of body horror type stuff, just as a forewarning. Nothing really horribly drastic or gory, though.

* * *

><p>A chilled wind tossed fallen leaves up into the night sky and rustled the long black coat of a boy trudging up the side of the hill. When he reached the top he stopped for a moment, hunching his shoulders and pulling the jacket tighter around him before glancing up at the moon. It was full. He ran through a mental checklist—Midnight? Check. Mystical Hill? Check. Full moon? Yep, check. All in all, the perfect setting for… what it was he was about to do.<p>

He headed to the middle of the hill and crouched, setting down the half-finished Suck Munkey he'd carried up here and pulling a slightly crumpled picture out of his pocket. The snapshot was of an odd, earless little boy with greenish skin. His bulbous eyes were crossed out with a large red _X._

"I wish I could get good pictures of Zim out of disguise," Dib muttered to himself. "Hopefully it doesn't matter." He glanced around until he found a small rock heavy enough to sit on the picture and keep it from blowing away. Next he pulled eight candles from his pockets and sat them around the picture in a circle, using a match to light each one with his hand cupped around it to keep the wind off. Technically he, uh, probably shouldn't have been using candles when it was windy out, but he was willing to cast basic safety by the wayside for now in the name of paranormal science. Besides, it would be fine. When all the candles were lit he stood back and drew out one last thing—an ancient-looking pamphlet.

The wind wafted around him again. Dib shivered, the candles in front of him flickering but not going out. He took a deep breath and looked down at the pamphlet. The paper was brittle, yellowed with age, and the front was decorated with a circular illustration of a wheel inscribed with different symbols. In the middle of the circle was a triangle with one eye and thin little limbs.

"Well, it's not the _first_ time I've tried summoning something with a pamphlet I got at the wizarding store at the mall," Dib reasoned, flipping the pamphlet open. "And I still have all my limbs, so… I hope this works, I guess!" He skimmed through the incantation written inside before throwing his hand in the air and clearing his throat. "Demon of the nightmare realm, RISE!" Reciting from the yellowed paper, he read, "_Triangulum, entangulum. Vene foris dominus mentium. Vene foris videntis omnium!" _He blinked. "Latin! Neat! I wonder what it—" He broke off with a pained choke.

The world had gone a blinding white. His eyes burned—_everything_ burned—and he couldn't see a thing. His legs collapsed under him and he fell to his knees, but he couldn't even react to that. He couldn't move, even his facial muscles were unresponsive—wait, but, he was _talking_. Involuntarily. Dib didn't even know what he was saying but to his ears it sounded like some sort of backwards message. His own voice grew in pitch and volume until his ears filled with a thunderous rushing noise and he managed to regain control of his speech. His vision cleared, though for a second he had to wonder if his brief paralysis had damaged his eyes because his surroundings had turned a vibrant black and white. Was that even possible? Could grayscale be _vibrant?_ Because that's what he was seeing. Everything was eerily silent, too. The background noise of chirping crickets had cut out. Flat gray storm clouds raced by overhead, but Dib couldn't feel the wind anymore.

There was a sound like an explosion right in front of him and he stumbled backward, looking up in shock. Ripples coursed by him as a triangular hole ringed with eight little flames opened up in thin air. Pinpricks of stars in an inky void could be seen through it. And, in the center, a single, large eye opened wide.

"AHAHAHAHA!" The creature belonging to the eye was laughing, its voice carrying an odd echo that could never be produced by a human. As Dib watched, the triangular hole flashed and became a black and white—but still triangular—_thing_.

Dib stared, his mouth agape.

The creature, meanwhile, glanced around at his new surroundings. "Well, well, new change of scenery!" he said. He pulled a giant roadmap out of nowhere and unfolded it, looking it over and ignoring Dib entirely. "Ah, Detroit, Michigan! Not as nice as Pontiac but I hear you've got good salty lemonade!" He stowed the map behind his back again. Only then did he acknowledge Dib's presence, drifting down closer to him with his arms held straight out by his sides and his elbows crooked at perfect right angles. His body changed color to a bright, glowing yellow as he spoke again. "The name's Bill Cipher, nice to meet'cha. And by the looks of things, you've been electrocuted recently! How do you get your hair to do that?" He laughed.

Dib subconsciously patted his hair scythe and was about to respond, but didn't get the chance.

"Actually, I was wondering when I'd run into you!" Bill flew in a circle around him, looking at him from all sides. Dib clutched the pamphlet closer to his chest.

"Wait, you know who I am?" he asked. The demon stopped in front of him.

"Sure I do! I know _plenty_, Dib Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is."

Oh. "That's not my last name," Dib said.

The demon just chuckled. "Haha, sure it's not."

Dib unfolded the pamphlet and scanned down until he found the phrase he was looking for, prodding it with his finger. "Look, I summoned you because this thing says you're a dream demon. Is that true? It doesn't say anything about you looking like the Eye of Providence, though." He glanced up at Bill with one eyebrow raised. "I mean, there's this picture on the front, but I didn't think that's what you actually _looked_ like."

"Eye of Providence? You mean that creepy conspiracy symbol on the back of your money?" One of Bill's thin, jet-black arms elongated and reached into Dib's coat pocket, pulling out a wad of cash and displaying the symbol pictured on the back of one. "Absolutely no relation! How much stuff do you have shoved in your pockets, anyway?"

"Hey!" Dib grabbed the money back and tucked it in his pocket. "You didn't answer my question!"

Bill leaned backwards in the air with one ankle (did he have ankles?) propped on the other leg. "Kid, I'm not just a 'dream demon.' I'm the _master_ of the mind. I know what everyone's thinking, all the time! Gets a little disturbing sometimes! But hey, wanna see something cool? I heard you like swollen eyeballs!" He reached up to his own eye and plucked it out of his triangular body with both hands like he did that kind of thing all the time, dropping it straight into Dib's arms with a laugh. The pulsating eye had turned puffy and webbed with red veins. Some milky, filmy substance obscured the pupil and smeared pus on Dib's hands.

He let out a strangled cry and dropped the diseased blob—as soon as it left contact with him if began to decompose, rotting into the ground and vanishing. Dib glanced up at Bill, who still had a gaping, black socket for a face. Then he blinked and his eye was back in its proper place, healthy-looking and clean as if nothing had even happened.

"What was _that_ for?" Dib choked, shaking. All traces of the gunk had disappeared from his hands but he scrubbed them on his trenchcoat anyway, hoping to lose the slimy feeling.

"I thought you might like a present!" Bill replied, his lower eyelid pulled up in what Dib assumed was a mouthless smile. Dib couldn't even tell whether he was being sarcastic or totally serious.

"Well, no! Thanks!" he said. He was still shuddering, but stopped rubbing his hands off and clenched them at his sides, taking a breath through his teeth and struggling to get his mind back on track. "Listen—listen, can you go inside an alien's mind?"

"Why? Got some old memories you want me to get rid of for you?" Bill lounged in the air, his arms resting behind his 'head.' "Haha! Just kidding, I know you're not an alien! Seriously though am I here for a request or for an interview?"

"A request!" Dib said. "See, there's this alien—" He pointed at the picture of Zim on the ground. "That's… actually a really bad picture, since he's in disguise and it's marked over with Sharpie, but could you do it?"

Bill glanced down at the picture. "Oh, the green kid! Wears a toupee, hates waffles, not from around here. Yeah, I know him!" His body snapped from a yellow color to animated, fizzing static like on a TV with bad reception, and then it changed again to a blood-red Irken symbol on a black background.

"Exactly!" Dib turned away, eyes narrowed in consideration. "There's probably two problems with going into Zim's mind, though. You're a dream demon and I don't know if he actually _does_ dream, since I don't know if he even sleeps. Also, he's sort of got two brains, one in his head and one in his weird metal backpack. Does that matter? Does it make a difference if—?" He turned around and dropped his hands. Bill was floating there playing with a paddleball. "…What are you doing?"

"Oh, just ignore me!" the triangular demon replied. "Go on with your monologue!"

Dib gave him a dubious look but continued on, keeping the demon in his sight. "_So,_ if you went into Zim's mind, you could find all sorts of information on Irkens and learn about any weaknesses in his defenses, but that would basically be summoning a dream demon and sending it on a research mission, which is kinda dumb. I was thinking you could implant some sort of false memory in his mind that would make him expose himself. Maybe the Tallest—his leaders—commanding him to leave his disguise off all the time from now on or something. What do you think?"

The triangle drifted down closer and pointed to Dib's nearly-forgotten Suck Munkey. "You gonna finish that?"

Pausing at the abrupt change of subject, Dib looked down at it uncertainly. "Um… yeah, I was going to, but I guess if you really want it—"

"I'm kidding! I don't even have a mouth!" Bill said, throwing out his arms. His eye glinted. "Hahaha, _humans!_ You're as gullible as anyone else! It's hilarious! Anyway, kid, you're asking for a _pretty_ tall order." He laughed again. "Pun completely intended! Memory implantation is a tricky business, although I imagine with Bug-Eyes over there it'll be a cinch. Still, you can't get something for nothing, you know! What're you planning to do for me in return?"

"…Oh." Dib dug around in his pocket until he pulled out the wad of cash that Bill had found earlier. "Well, Dad's a famous scientist, and he's kind of rich, y'know? I could pay you…"

Bill dropped his smile. He snapped his fingers, and a stack of glowing blue hundred dollar bills appeared in it in a puff of white smoke. "I've got all the money I could want right here! Actually, look, it's not even real, heh." He waved his hand right through the money. "I don't need real money! Can't really manifest in the physical world!" The bills vanished in another cloud of smoke. "That's right, kiddo, you're dreaming right now. Cash isn't gonna do it. You'll have to think of something else!"

"Hm…" Dib took a few paces back and forth, hand on his chin. At last he stopped, realizing he didn't have a clue what to offer. "Well… what do you want?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" Bill clapped his hands together. "There is _one_ thing I can think of."

Dib braced himself, remembering the little "gift" Bill had given him. Whatever the demon wanted, it couldn't be pleasant. What had he gotten himself into?

"I could use some help in taking down an organization!" The dream demon floated around behind Dib, his hands clasped behind him. "An _evil_ organization. What do you say to that?" He came up beside Dib and nudged him in the side with his elbow.

Dib edged away. "An entire organization? Which one?" he asked.

"What does that matter to you? C'mon, kid, you've got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here to make your archenemy expose _himself. _Are you really gonna blow it just for some tiny anddidImentionevil society that no one's even heard of? And you'll only have to do a couple of things—I'll take care of the rest!"

Dib narrowed his eyes. "First tell me what those 'couple of things' are." He wished he'd studied up more on how to deal with demons. They were tricky, they hardly ever told the truth, and you couldn't trust them at all.

Bill shrugged. "The major thing is that there's a wizarding store at the mall—you got that pamphlet there, am I right? Haha, of course I'm right! On the wall behind the register there's an owl clock with eyes that shift from side to side. You know the one! I want that first of all."

"You—huh?" Dib shook his head. "You want a _clock?_ That's… really specific, for a demon. Why do you want _that?_ How's that supposed to help you take down an evil organization?"

"I like owls!" Bill said.

Dib sighed. "But it's the middle of the night and that clock's not even for sale! I can't break in and steal it off the wall. Can't I just run home and bring you one of _our_ clocks?"

Bill laughed, leaning forward and giving Dib a patronizing look. "Kid, if I wanted any old clock, I'd just go out and get one myself!"

"You just told me you couldn't appear in the physical world!" Dib protested.

The demon chose not to respond to that, examining the back of his hand like he was inspecting nonexistent fingernails. "You'll have to agree to the exact terms, or there's no deal!"

Dib bit his lip and huffed. "All right, okay, _fine,_" he said, frowning. "I'll figure something out."

"So we have a deal, then?"

There was something in Bill's tone that Dib wasn't sure he liked, but he pushed the feeling to the side. If this was a chance to expose Zim, he _had_ to take it. Nothing else he'd tried had ever worked. "Yeah. Do I have to sign a contract or something?"

"_Yeesh, _no," Bill said, wincing. "That's so old-school. A handshake is fine!"

Warily, Dib stuck out his hand. Blue flames erupted around Bill's hand and they shook on the deal, the flames flowing down and wreathing around Dib's arm. He didn't even feel them. He could feel Bill's hand, though—it was ice cold, like the touch of a ghost.

"Well, that takes care of that!" Bill let go and dusted his hands off. "I'll go take care of your little green friend for you. Remember, realityisanillusiontheuniverseisahologram-make sure to get that clock-andbuygoldBYYYYEEE!"

As he spoke, the light around him brightened until it hurt to look at. He vanished in a flash that sent ripples washing through the air, color bleeding back into the world as they passed.

Dib's eyes snapped open and he gasped, rubbing at them and blinking rapidly. It was still nighttime and he was kneeling at the top of the hill. Everything was just like it had been before Bill arrived, though all of the candles around the picture of Zim had gone out. The sounds of crickets had started up again.

No onlookers would have known that the meeting with Bill had ever even happened.


	2. The Deal

Dib cupped his hands to the glass door and peered inside. He couldn't see much. It was almost pitch black—of course, it was the middle the night. The mall had been closed and deserted for hours, and the door was locked.

He considered the door for a moment. "This is going to take all of my investigation skills," he mused. "Everything's locked up tight and the only way in would be to break a window or something, unless…" He glanced up—"Air vents?"—and shook his head. "No, that's really cliche and I'd probably get stuck somewhere and die."

Instead he wandered around the outside of the mall, examining the walls but honestly not really expecting to find any way in. The doors he found were all locked, of course, except for a small one that, when he opened it, just led to a janitor's closet. On the _outside_. Weird.

When he arrived back at where he'd started almost an hour had gone by and he had pretty much given up hope of finding a better way in. Maybe he could come back tomorrow and see about getting the clock? Did Bill really need it right away? Well, the demon had gone to fulfill his end of the deal almost immediately, so it was only fair… With a frown, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up at the roof.

He gave a resigned sigh. "Okay, air vents it is," he said. "…And then I have _got_ to stop talking to myself."

* * *

><p>A couple of miles away and several hundred feet underground, Irken Invader Zim had no warning whatsoever for the wave of dizziness and nausea that hit him full-force like a stampeding Hogulus.<p>

He gasped and staggered, collapsing to the ground and dropping the armload of tools he'd been carrying to the elevator. They spilled across the floor around him as he curled up, hunching his knees in toward his chest and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"_Zim? Uh… you dying over there?"_ The voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of the ceiling.

"Urgh—no—" Zim rasped, pushing himself to his knees and groping at thin air in the direction he believed the elevator doors to be. He squinted, focusing until the wall in front of him wasn't multiplied in his vision eight times, and lurched toward it, bracing himself against it while his knees buckled and his body gave way to compulsive shudders. "I'm fine, Computer! Of course, I'm _fine. _There's nothing that can—that can—" He reeled, squeezing his eyes shut again. His arms and legs were burning hot and freezing cold at the same time and had quickly become slick with sweat under his uniform. "Gah—_Computer!_ I'm _not_ fine! I've been infected with some sort of horrible virus, I think—!" Swaying, he felt his way down the wall until he found the elevator doors and weakly pounded a fist on them. "Take me to the—the television screen… thingy… room."

The doors slid open and he stumbled inside, leaning against the far wall and breathing heavily. He swallowed hard and licked his lips. His entire mouth had gone dry. "What… _happened_ to me? I was fine before!"

"_I dunno, maybe something poisoned you."_

"_Poisoned?!"_ Zim felt around his neck and under his collar but there was no needle, dart, barb, stinger, _anything_, and he hadn't even eaten in several hours. How could it be poison?

"_Surveillance Room_," the computer announced helpfully. He didn't usually announce the rooms like that and for a second Zim wondered if he really was on the verge of death.

No, no, it was just an inconsequential bug, likely brought about by the filthy germs GIR dragged home with him every day. It would be gone in a few minutes, tops.

Zim managed to shuffle his feet toward the chair in the middle of the room and toppled onto it, shutting his eyes and wiping sweat from his brow. Good thing the smelly Dib wasn't here to see—

The chair disappeared right out from under him.

Zim crashed to the ground and swallowed a mouthful of grit. His eyes snapped open and he levered himself up on his hands, retching and spitting the sand out of his mouth. He'd been transported to the middle of a desert somewhere, it looked like—sand spread for miles in every direction. The back of his head baked under a blazing sun beating down overhead.

"_Finally!_ You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to lose consciousness! I had to resort to drastic measures, see? You _really_ didn't want to sleep!"

Zim wiped off his mouth with his sleeve and hauled himself to his feet, turning around and giving a start. "You! Who are _you?_" he demanded. Floating behind him was a living triangle. It was literally a yellow triangle with a giant eye and four little limbs. He'd never seen a species like _that_ before. What planet was this thing from?

The triangle drifted to the ground and leaned casually on a black cane that materialized in his hands. "The name's Bill Cipher. And I have to say, interesting subconscious you've got here!" He swept his hand out across their desert wasteland surroundings. "Empty with nothing but sand stretching as far as the eye can see! Not a lot going on upstairs, I'm guessing?"

Zim's four biomechanical PAK legs slid out of his PAK, their tips sinking into the hot sand as he rose up on them, towering over the weird triangle. "Begone with you! Leave the head of Zim!"

"Sorry, kid, I've got a job to do!" Bill replied. "Say, where do you keep your memories, anyway?"

Underneath Bill, the ground rumbled and shook and for a second he rocked from side to side, waving his arms to keep his balance. He hopped a couple of feet away from the site; right where he'd been standing a tall, vine-like, vibrant green tower grew up, displaced sand cascading down from it and spilling over the two of them. The tower was covered with slanted windows and flapping purple shutters. Satellite dishes stuck out of the walls like thorns. The tower snaked toward the sky, climbing higher and higher until it stopped at last and revealed a giant purple door facing Zim at the bottom.

"Well, that answers that!" Bill said. The ground shook again and he looked down in surprise. Enormous lawn gnomes shot up out of the ground in a circle around the demon, their glowing red gazes drifting down to lock on him. As one they lifted their stiff arms up and blasted a concentrated red beam at him. He just stepped to the side and avoided it entirely.

"Neat trick!" he said. "Wanna see one of mine?" He snapped his fingers and the gnomes started melting from the top down, the colorful plastic of their casings dripping down and exposing the harsh metal skeletons underneath. The glaring red lights in their eyes blinked out and they all fell backwards in a spray of sand.

Bill flew up over the downed lawn gnomes and hovered in front of Zim again. "Well, this has been a good chat!" He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "I'll just be up in that thorny tower that grew out of the ground, rooting through your memories for a while! Oh, and you won't remember any of this when you wake up! Sorry. Haha! See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!" With that he turned and rocketed away, blasting right through the wall of the tower and leaving a triangle-shaped hole that closed up right afterward.

"Hey!" Zim shouted after him, running up and trying the door only to find that it was locked. He leaned his entire weight on it but it didn't budge. "Hey! _Hey! _Let me in! That's _my_ base!"He stepped back and blasted at it with his PAK legs. The energy beams were absorbed into the wall and left no impact.

Zim growled and looked up, examining the tower's exterior. High, high up above the ground, one of the windows was cracked open the tiniest bit. He instantly rose up as high as he could on his PAK legs and began to climb using the numerous satellite dishes as hand and footholds.

He had nearly made it and was reaching toward the sill of the open window when a single, enormous eye opened in midair right next to him.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you!" Bill's echoing voice taunted.

The window slammed closed on Zim's fingertips. He yowled and slipped downward, then lost his grip altogether, falling down into an empty void that was much deeper than the distance he'd climbed up.

The air around the eye solidified and became the yellow triangle demon, gazing down at him. "Ahahahaha! Hey, I did warn you! Also you'll probably have a little surprise when you wake up! I may need you later!"

Zim screamed, the world fading as he tumbled into the abyss.

* * *

><p>Zim slammed to the floor and opened his eyes with a gasp. In a second he was back on his feet, lurching and catching hold of his chair again to steady himself. His head throbbed behind his eyes. His squeedily-spooch writhed and churned. What happened? Frantically he tried to recall the events of the last half hour—he must have been knocked out, yes, yes, but how? He had a foggy recollection of shadowy men in the base. Huge men whose faces he couldn't see. That was right, intruders had broken in, right after he'd gotten an important call from the Tallest. Had they taken anything? Where was GIR? Horrified, he thought he remembered—they'd been after GIR the whole time, yes, the poor robot, they had burst in and they'd just grabbed him and taken him away—<em>hadn't they?<em>

"Computer! _Computer!"_ Zim screeched.

"_What now?"_

"Where is GIR?" he demanded. "Is GIR here?"

"_Uh… no. He's been out for a while."_

Zim sucked in a breath, his antennae standing straight up in the air. "I knew it, I _knew_ it—!" He heaved himself to his feet and ran back to the elevator. "Computer, take me up to the house level!" The elevator doors slid open and Zim marched inside, clenching and unclenching his fists. He automatically reached into his PAK, retrieving his black wig and contact lenses. "I have to go, Computer. GIR's been stolen!"

"_Stolen? By who, Dib?"_

"No! By the people who broke in!" Zim snapped. "You're supposed to be keeping people _out, _Computer_. _What were you doing, sitting around and being completely _useless?_"

The computer paused for a moment. "…_No one's broken in, Zim."_

"Yes they did! They crashed right through the wall, knocked me unconscious, and ran out with GIR! How could you not remember?! It happened less than an hour ago!"

"_How would you see someone run off with GIR if they knocked you unconscious first?"_

"I don't know! Just—why isn't this thing moving?" Zim stamped his foot on the elevator floor; the doors had closed behind him, but the elevator had remained stationary.

"_Seriously, Zim. No one broke in. You just got sick and passed out. Also, no one on this planet would want GIR besides maybe Dib. And even that's doubtful."_

Why was the computer being so infuriating?! Zim yanked at his antennae, about ready to start blasting the wall. "I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS! GIR's missing and the Tallest are going to call back any minute! I have to go _NOW!_"

"_Call… back?_" The computer sounded even more confused. _"When did they call before?"_

"Right before the filthy intruders broke in!" Zim slammed his fist into the elevator doors. "Now take me up to the house level or I'll—I'll—" He seethed, struggling to come up with the perfect threat.

"_Zim, I really think—"_

"SILENCE!"

The computer did a reasonable imitation of a frustrated sigh. "_All _RIGHT_. I'll take you up to the house level. I have no clue what you're ranting about but you know, whatever."_

The elevator lurched and began to move upward. Zim realized how tense he was and forced himself to try to relax a little, though he bounded out into his living room as soon as the elevator doors opened again. However, he screeched to a halt by the front door, reaching up and running his fingers through a few strands of the plastic hair in his wig. During their call, brief as it was, the Tallest had ordered him to stop wearing his disguise out in public. But why? That went against every iota of his Invader training.

"The Tallest are just confused," Zim reassured himself. "Of _course_ they don't want me to stop wearing my brilliant disguise. It's all a test, or a joke—hehe, yes, it's very funny. We do that, you know. We joke around." He kept his disguise on and stepped outside.

Besides, he wasn't really going out in _public_. It was still nighttime, and most humans were asleep.

* * *

><p>The sun was rising by the time a wonky, highly inefficient-looking vehicle pulled up in front of the Membrane household and a rather grimy Dib slipped out, lugging a large, twitchy owl clock with him.<p>

"I'm very disappointed in you, Son!" Professor Membrane reprimanded from the strange car's driver seat. "If you wanted a clock for your _parascience_—" he said the word with a certain amount of contempt—"then you should have gone out and bought one at a reasonable hour like a normal human being!"

"Sorry, Dad," Dib mumbled. "But I needed it to pay a dream demon I summoned…"

"Don't ever let me hear of you shoplifting again, or I'll revoke all of your telescope privileges!"

Dib grimaced, thinking about the giant telescope in the backyard and how useful it was to check out faraway galaxies. "It won't happen again! And besides, I was gonna leave money for it."

Professor Membrane apparently didn't hear that last part. "Now, I have to be off. Go straight to bed and stay out of trouble!" Without so much as a goodbye, the shaded passenger window rolled up and the car lifted off the ground, its wheels tucking in as it blasted into the sky.

Dib turned and trudged into the house. His arms and legs were leaden and he was pretty much exhausted. Finding his way through dirty air vents and somehow making it into the mall in one piece had been hard enough, and then there'd been that manic security guard and, bizarrely, mall zombies. Who knew there were zombies in the mall? And who knew they'd catch him by the trenchcoat and the whole thing would end with the police getting involved and then calling his father? At least he got to keep the clock. He'd be able to pay Bill back whenever he managed to make his way back to Mystical Hill.

His face split in a huge yawn and he checked his watch. It was six in the morning. He'd been up all night. With a sigh he headed upstairs, glancing at Gaz's door as he headed down the hall. It was still closed. Well, it was always closed, but she was probably still asleep anyway given how early it was. Shame, he could've told her all about his deal with Bill.

When he got to his room he sat the clock down by his desk and flopped onto his bed, picking up his laptop and flipping it open. Blearily he browsed through a few of his favorite paranormal forums, not really paying attention to what they said. He yawned again and his eyes drifted closed. Yeeaaahh… maybe he should take off his boots and stuff and try to get a few hours' sleep.

He jerked himself awake again, blinking, and made to close his laptop only to find it already closed. Oddly, though, the circular logo on top—the symbol of the Swollen Eyeball Network—was still glowing, and the eye-like design in the middle seemed to have shifted position. It was now pointing straight at Dib, like it was _looking_ at him.

"Huh?" Dib leaned closer, peering at it. "But that's—"

As he watched, the symbol collapsed inward and then widened again, reminiscent of an eye blinking.

"NYAAH!" Dib jumped backwards, slamming the back of his head into his headboard and blinking away the stars that appeared in front of his eyes. The casing of his laptop turned into a digital display of a black screen with bright white lines spanning across, the logo on the front standing out in stark contrast. Waves from the computer spread down the bed and outward in concentric circles through the room, leeching away all color and leaving shades of gray in its wake. The lines on the laptop warped and bent to form a triangle around the logo; it blinked again and became a real eye, and then Bill Cipher rose up from it, lifting into the air and becoming his normal size and color in a flash of light.

"Look at that, you got the clock!" he said. "Glad you managed to come through!"

Dib jumped down to the floor, backing away a few steps and looking at him incredulously. "What—how did you get here? I didn't summon you!"

"I just came to collect my payment!" the demon replied. "Your friend back there swallowed your false memory hook, line, and sinker!"

"Zim? He did? That's great!" Dib brightened up immediately. He pointed down at the owl clock. "Well, you can have that, then, and do… whatever it is you want to do with it, I guess." Eagerly he looked back up at Bill. "So is Zim really going to go around without his disguise now? Man, he's an _idiot! _Thanks for doing that! What was his mind like?" A thought struck him. "Hey, d'you mind if I take a picture of you for documentation?" He hurried to his desk and scrounged around on top, searching for his camera.

"Whoa, whoa, kid, I think you're forgetting something!" Bill said idly. "You agreed to do a few things for me, remember? As in, more than one!"

"I did? Oh… right," Dib said, glancing down at the clock. His brow furrowed. "…Hey, wait a minute! I already got you the clock! If I do something else for you, that means you need to do something else for me, too."

Bill leaned on his elbow in the air. "Actually, your end of the deal was to help me take down an organization! That clock was just the first step!"

"I don't think the clock actually has anything to do with anything. And you've already done your end of the deal! So here's your payment, and why should I do anything else?" Dib planted his hands on his hips.

"Hey, kid, y_ou_ summoned _me_. It's almost like _you _asked for _my _help." Bill suddenly faded away and rose up again out of the floor next to Dib, nudging him in the ribs. "Haha! Imagine that! You'd almost think that should really mean the deal gets done on my terms! Right?" He backed off, shrugging. "But okay, sure, whatever you want! I'll just go back to alien-kid's mind and undo everything I did in there! Later, scythe-head!" He vanished in a burst of blue flame, and Dib gasped.

"Stop! No! Wait!" he called.

There were a few seconds of silence, in which Dib stared at the spot where Bill had vanished with his heart pounding. Then there was a flash of light over Dib's shoulder and he twisted his neck to see the demon re-materialize behind him, twirling a cane that he hadn't had a minute ago and giving him a nonchalant look. "Is there a problem?"

"Okay, I'll keep going on the deal!" Dib turned around, exasperated. "What else do you want, huh? Huh?"

Bill stopped twirling the cane and spread his arms. "Oh, I just need a little help getting into the building of the organization I'm trying to destroy!"

"Well… I guess I could try." Dib looked at him askance. "I mean, if this so-called organization of yours really is evil, then it probably should be stopped. But I don't think I'll be able to help you get into some society that I don't even—"

"Oh, don't worry!" Bill cheerfully cut him off. "_I _think you _will. _Here, just grab the cane!"

He held out the end of his cane and Dib, somewhat confused, took hold of it. Up above him, Bill's eye blazed and his triangular form erupted in blue flames.

"Hah! That was almost too easy!" the demon bellowed in a deep, nightmarish voice, and Dib's eyes widened as he was hit with the horrible feeling that things had suddenly gone very, very wrong.

Before Dib could let go of the cane, Bill yanked it upward, and Dib's ears were filled with a rushing noise much like what he'd heard when first summoning the demon. There was a stretching sensation as if his entire body had become a piece of elastic and he couldn't see anything for a second. Bill flung him aside and Dib, stunned, braced himself for impact with the floor—but it never came. He tumbled through the air and stayed there, hovering.

"What? What the—" He looked around wildly. His feet were dangling a good yard or two off the ground but there was nothing keeping him up, and when he caught sight of his hands he yelped. "I'm see-through!" Even worse, however, was the realization of what was going on down below him, and his blood ran cold.

Or it would have, if he'd _had_ any blood at the moment.

He was still on the floor—or at least, his body was. It had collapsed face-first in a heap. Now it stirred, raising its head and climbing to its feet. Its eyes were closed, but when they opened, Dib gawked and desperately wished this was just a really vivid nightmare.

His voice was small and heavy with dread and disbelief as he said, quietly, "Oh, _man_."

The eyes of the dark-clothed figure standing on the floor had taken on a yellow tinge and the irises were no longer brown. Instead, they were black and ovoid. Or maybe there weren't even irises in those eyes anymore, maybe those were just oblong pupils, glittering as they shifted upwards to focus on him from behind large round-rimmed glasses.

"_Bill?_" Dib was just noticing that his own voice now had a strange echoing quality to it. "What did you—?" He trailed off, staring down at his body in stupefied horror. It was laughing. It was laughing in Bill's voice.

"That's two humans in one week!" Bill said, taking a few rocky steps forward before kneeling beside the clock Dib had left by his desk. "Boy, there's gotta be some sort of record for that!"

"_Two _humans? You've done this to someone else?!" Had Gaz ever acted strange or not like herself? No, he didn't think so. What about Dad? He'd seemed pretty normal…

"Yeah, that was a lot of fun!" He looked over at Dib, raising one eyebrow. _Dib's_ eyebrow. "Haha! Actually, he was a lot like you!" He squinted. "Maybe not _quite_ as neurotic."

He was fiddling with a little compartment on the back of the clock. When he got it open, there was a stack of papers inside.

"What's that?" Dib asked despite himself, drifting closer.

"Oh, just some documents that shouldn't be left around where hypothetical sets of twins could conceivably come across them!" Bill replied. He lifted up the documents to show Dib but they were folded in such a way that he couldn't see the writing on them. "Here's a fun fact! This clock and that pamphlet you bought are both originally from Gravity Falls, Oregon! Here's another fun fact—these things are made of paper, and you've got matches in your pocket!" He reached into the pocket of Dib's trenchcoat and pulled out the box of matches kept in there. As Dib watched, aghast, the demon held the papers by one corner, lit the match, and set the thin stack of documents alight.

"What are you doing?! This is my room!" Dib's entire body—or ghost form—or whatever—shot downward and he scrabbled at the papers, trying to put out the fire, but his hands passed right through them.

"Hah! Good luck with that!" Bill said. "You're nothing but—AAGGH!" He dropped the burning papers, clutching his right hand to his chest for a few heartbeats. Then he laughed and examined his fingertips. "Efficient nervous system you've got there! Didn't know you could react to things so quickly!"

"The fire—!" Dib exclaimed, pointing. Bill simply stamped out the flames with the heel of Dib's boot. Dib relaxed a little bit, but when he looked back at his possessed body he noticed the redness of his hands. "Did you just burn my fingers?!" He hadn't felt anything, but that wasn't too surprising. He would later, though. When he got his body back from this thieving demon.

"This one's next!" Bill said, and pulled out the pamphlet that Dib had used to summon him in the first place. He lit another match.

"Would you stop starting fires in my room?! And that pamphlet's a genuine paranormal artifact—I spent two hundred dollars on it!" Dib protested.

"Hah! Yeah, and look where that got you!" Bill stretched his mouth in a wide grin, displaying every one of Dib's teeth. "A bit of friendly advice: be more careful about how you spend your money! AHAHAHA!" He set the pamphlet on fire. Dib could only hang in the air and watch it burn.

"I can't believe you did this!" he shouted at last, flinging his arms in the air. "This wasn't even part of the deal we made! You can't do something that's not part of the contract—it goes against everything I've read about demons!"

"You must not have read very much, then!" Bill laughed. He stomped out the last of the flames devouring the pamphlet. The two fires had left dark scorch marks in the carpet. "I told you I needed you to get me into the organization's headquarters. I didn't say how!"

"_What_ organization? What are you even _talking_ about?" Dib demanded.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" the demon said.

The door to Dib's bedroom slammed open, making Dib jump while Bill just looked around with one eyebrow cocked. Gaz stood there, breathing heavily with her fists shaking in anger. "How many _times_ do I have to tell you not to laugh psychotically early in the morning before you finally _STOP?"_

"Oh, hey, you must be my little sister!" Bill said, turning his wide, unnatural grin to her. "Want to go destroy a secret organization with me? It'll be fun! There might not even be any survivors this time!"

"Gaz! Can you hear me?" Dib called, flying forward and waving a hand in her face. "That's not me! You have to tell the Swollen Eyeballs I've been possessed! Remember that phone number I gave you?"

Gaz didn't respond to him at all, which meant that either he was completely nonexistent to her or she was just being herself. Or both. She peered at Bill with her eyes partially open. Without a word she turned and went into the bathroom. There was the sound of running water and then she came back with a cup full to the brim with it, which she proceeded to dump over Bill's head.

"Oh, come _on!" _Dib said in exasperation.

"Hm, not sure what you expected to happen there!" Bill said, examining his now dripping trenchcoat.

"Okay, you're not a robot," Gaz concluded. "Just go be weirder than usual _downstairs _and let me sleep."

"Sure thing, Gaz-a-rino!" Bill gave her a thumbs-up and she left, glaring. The demon glanced over at Dib. "Hah, some sister! Inconsiderate siblings are fun!"

"Hey, whatever you think you're doing here, just leave Gaz out of it!" Dib flew down and spread his arms out in front of the door, trying to block it even though he knew that he was completely intangible.

Bill smirked. "You certainly seem to care more about her than she cares about you! Anyway, relax, I'll leave her alone. Haha! Well, can't stick around here all day!" He passed right through Dib and headed out of the room, stumbling a little in Dib's boots at first but quickly getting the hang of walking in them.

Dib felt sick. He tried to go off after Bill, struggling to swim through the air but mostly just succeeding only in bobbing up and down and flailing his arms around uselessly. How had he moved before?

He froze. From out in the hall came the thundering sound of someone running down a flight of stairs at breakneck speed, then an awful _thud _as the person landed hard on the floor.

After a moment, gurgling laughter floated up to him. "Hahahaha—stairs are still amazing! You humans literally have death traps just sitting around in your houses!"

Cringing, Dib at last figured out that to move forward all he had to do was think about it—it took a conscious effort, but he was finally able to move in any direction he wanted. It was kind of fun, actually. Well, it would have been fun if a triangular mind demon hadn't taken over his body. Still, he had to repress a jubilant "Whee!" as he hurried down the hall. He found Bill at the bottom of the stairs, veering around with his arms outstretched like he'd suddenly gone blind. Which made sense, since he'd taken off Dib's glasses and had them clutched them in one hand. Blood flowed from his nose—probably from falling down the stairs—and ran down onto his shirt, leaving dark brown stains. Dib recoiled.

"Boy, having two eyes is pretty useless if you have to stick lenses in front of them just to see straight!" Bill said, squinting at Dib. "Your eyes are terrible! I can hardly tell up from down! You ever considered having these puppies gouged out and just putting them out of their misery? I could do it for free!" He stuck up his thumb and brought it near one eye.

"What? _No!_ Don't do that!" Dib cried. Bill brought his thumb away, laughing, and Dib shook his head. "What is _wrong _with you? And what are you planning to do with my body, anyway? You're not working for Zim, are you? You've been in league with him this entire time, haven't you!" Even as he said it, though, he realized how stupid that notion was.

"I don't work for _anyone_, kid." Bill propped Dib's glasses back on his face and waved his hand impassively. "This whole thing is just a little side project of mine, anyway. My real plans have nothing to do with you, so you can just sit tight and not worry for a while!"

"…_Real _plans?"

"Haha, yeah, you'll want to stick around when they come to fruition! It'll be quite the spectacle!" He wandered through the living room, picking up the remote control from the coffee table and pressing a few of the buttons. "I think this thing is broken!" He tossed it over his shoulder and rubbed his hands together, craning his neck to see into the kitchen. "Say, what kind of foodstuffs do you have around here, anyway?"

"Huh? Food?"

Bill walked across the tiled floor, taking a peek in the fridge, then clambered up on the counter and rooted through one of the cabinets. Something caught his eye and he reached inside, taking hold of it. "Whoa-_ho! _What is _this?_" To Dib's horror, he pulled a jar of jalapeños out of the cupboard and dropped down to sit on the counter, legs swinging over the side.

Dib flew forward, waving his hands. "No! Not that, no, no, nuh-uh, don't—"

Bill unscrewed the lid and plucked out one of the peppers. "Really? Well, if you insist—just kidding! Down the hatch!" Eyes on Dib, he opened his mouth wide and bit into the pepper just below the stem.

His pupils constricted and his face twitched, gazing unseeing across the room as the stem slid out of his fingers. He gave what sounded like a choked hiccup and snapped out of it, shaking his head and coughing into his elbow, wheezing. "Wow—_Wow! _That was incredible!" Gleefully he took out another pepper and chomped into that one too. "Man, it hurts! It's like a mother puma's giving birth in my mouth!" And another pepper. "Who knew your wimpy little meat tongues could feel this much pain just by tasting things? Hahaha!" And another one, his pupils dilating this time. "I think I can see into eighty dimensions at once now!"

Dib buried his face in his hands. "Why do we even _have_ hot peppers?"

Bill abandoned the jar for a moment and stood back up on the counter, looking in the cupboards again. "Hey, you've got chocolate? I've heard humans are crazy for the stuff!" He pulled out an old chocolate bar that Dib had forgotten was even in there and peeled back the wrapping (Dib found himself feeling a little grateful that at least the demon didn't bite into it wrapper and all) and took a chunk out of the candy bar. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Hm… hm… Oh, I know what'll make this better!" He reached up higher, grabbed a bottle of syrup out of the cupboard, and dumped a huge glob right on the chocolate as well as all over his fingers and onto the counter. Then he took another bite out of it. "Fantastic! Oh, and here's another idea!" He picked up another one of the hot peppers, dumped syrup on it, and bit into that as well.

His mouth full and smeared with syrup, he grinned up at Dib. "Hey, how much of this stuff do you think I can eat before your heart shuts down completely? Wanna find out? Do you have any wasabi?"

Dib, fuming, clenched his fists. "_No! _And what I _want_ is for you to get out of my body and never come back!"

Bill brandished a jalapeño at him. "You make a good point! This is all fun, but I should probably head out now! Lots to do!"

He hopped off the counter (not making a move to clean up his mess of hot peppers, chocolate, and syrup) and headed to the door. His nose was still bleeding and he wiped it on his sleeve.

"Anyway," Bill continued, grinning toothily again, "I need to find transportation! You have vehicles around here, right?" He went to the front of the house and peered out the window.

"You won't be able to get a ride!" Dib said, flying after him. "Dad's already left and no taxi's going to come pick up an eleven-year-old!"

"Why would I want someone to give me a ride?" the demon said. "I think it's time I gave driving a shot!"

* * *

><p>AN: Bill-Dib!

...

_Bib_


	3. The Network

Bill walked a good distance from the house before he came across a parked car with no one near it, giving only vague responses to Dib as he followed behind him and tried again and again to get the demon to change his mind about taking his body _driving_.

"I'm not even old enough to drive!" Dib burst out when Bill stopped by the car and contemplated it with his hand on his chin. "You won't even be able to see over the dashboard! You'll get pulled over and then I'll get thrown in jail!"

"_Relax_, kid." Bill glanced at him over his shoulder. "Sheesh, you worry too much! You got anything in your pockets that can unlock a car door?"

"No, I don't! Because I don't drive and I don't steal cars!"

"Oh well, like the saying goes, more than one way to skin a cat!" Bill laughed. "Believe me, I've tried them all!" He stepped backwards, swung his foot up, and slammed the heel of his boot into the lock with all the force Dib's body could muster. It snapped right open and a rusty-sounding car alarm started blaring.

Both Bill and Dib flung their hands over their ears. "Wow! Glad these things are so poorly constructed!" the demon yelled over the noise. He called up to Dib, "Hey, Foureyes, better make sure no one's coming if you really don't wanna be arrested!"

Dib fumed. Gritting his teeth, he floated up a little higher. "I hate you."

"You'd be surprised how often I get that!"

"No I wouldn't."

Bill opened the car door and climbed in, closing the door again behind him but rolling down the window with a crank on the inside. He had to sit on the very edge of the car seat to even be able to reach the pedals and steering wheel, and as Dib had predicted the top of his head barely reached the dashboard and he had to crane his neck to see over it at all. "This is perfect!"

"You don't have the keys," Dib pointed out, crossing his arms.

"Keys, shmees!" Bill said. He ducked down under the dashboard, fiddled with something for a minute, and the car's engine roared to life. The alarm even cut out cut out with a double _beep_.

Dib gaped and started to ask how he'd even done that—or _knew_ how to do that—but Bill was already waving goodbye.

"Nice workin' with you!" he called. "Hah, I'd invite you along, Mothman, but the car would just leave you behind!"

Dib jumped at the use of his codename. "How'd you know—?"

Bill laughed. "I told you I know lots of things, kid!" He switched gears, gave Dib a mock salute, and then proceeded to swerve backwards over the sidewalk and rear-end a mailbox. "Haha, whoops, they should fire the guy who labeled this gearshift! Okay, let's see here, 'park, reverse, neutral, drive—' Aha, drive! There we go OKAY." He waved at Dib again. "Leaving for real this time! Later, suckers! Well, sucker. BYE!" He revved the engine, rolled back over the sidewalk with a bump, and drove off haphazardly down the road.

"Seriously, Bill, you _can't—_!" Dib shouted after him. The car didn't stop. Dib cupped his hands around his mouth and raised his voice. "At least put on your seatbelt!"

* * *

><p>Humans had gotten one thing right. Driving was <em>fun<em>.

His stolen body's mouth pulled back in a fanatic grin over bared teeth (hard enamel-coated bone nuggets sticking out of a round, wet orifice in his face—that would _never_ not be weird) and he leaned forward, peering over the steering wheel and hungrily searching the road for any cars that might be in his way.

It was still a bit difficult to tell exactly where things were in relation to him. Suddenly having a new visual dimension to deal with still took a little getting used to; he kept trying to compensate for lack of depth perception when there wasn't any need to anymore! Funny. Of course, seeing depth seemed to be all that having two eyes was good for. The pupils had to move together; if he tried looking at something with one eye while moving the other to look at something else, all he got was a headache, which was more annoying and disorienting than anything.

He pressed the gas pedal down further with his foot, his eyes going wide as he was pushed backwards with the exhilarating feeling of the car's acceleration. He rapidly gained ground between himself and the cars in front of him, coming up to about a hairsbreadth between them and then swerving around to the outside, sparks flying as the side of the car scraped against the metal guardrail. He caught the horrified faces of the people looking at him from the other cars and waved, his hand bumping into some distracting card stock object dangling from the rearview mirror. It was one of those good-smelling air freshener things. And it was shaped like a pine tree, which, of course, was pretty hilarious. He laughed and tore it down, tossing it in the backseat.

"Let's see what horrible human music they listen to in Nowhere's-ville, Michigan!" he said, reaching down and flicking on the radio. It crackled with static and a song started playing.

"_With a thousand lies and a good disguise, hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes—When you walk away, nothing more to say—See the lightning in your eyes, see 'em running for their lives—" _He switched the station with a _click_.

"_Disco girl, coming through, that girl is—" Click._

"AGH would someone just BUY our tacos, we're practically _GIVING!_ them away at this point!" Huh! That was just a weird commercial! _Click._

"—_And besides in the mean, mean time, I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart—I'm in the de-details with the devil, so now the world can never get me on my level—" Click._

"…_don't start 'til I walk in. Don't stop! Make it pop! D.J. blow my speakers up! Tonight, Imma fight, 'til we see the—" _He winced at the auto-tune-induced spike of pain in his head and changed that one quickly.

"_Boys are a bore, let's show 'em the door, we're taking over the dance floor! Oh-oh! Girls do what we like, oh-oh! We're taking over tonight!" Click._

"We're receiving reports of what looks to be a preteen boy barreling down the highway in what is possibly a stolen vehicle—" He just turned the radio off completely.

"Hah! I was right! This is all terrible!" Bill said. He stuck his tongue between his teeth and jerked the steering wheel to the left, veering up over the concrete median dividing the two lanes and hurtling into oncoming traffic, blasting the car's horn with both hands. The people driving toward him screamed and careened around his car. From some distance away he heard a piercing siren and caught flashing red and blue lights on the edge of his vision.

"Hey, look, it's the police! Ho-_ho_, this is getting interesting!" Bill said, laughing and turning the car back over the median and into the right lane. "Do you people even realize who I am? I'm a centuries-old dream demon—I've been to, I dunno, three thousand dimensions or something like that! You'll never catch me alive!" This was almost _too _much fun. He sped up and ran a couple of red lights in a row, narrowly missing the cross traffic, then swung around a turn. This was fantastic!

He grinned again, clasping the wheel in both hands and twisting his head to look over his shoulder, leaning out the window slightly. There were no police cars in sight. He must have lost them. Cool! Bill looked back out the windshield, smiling broadly, and suddenly realized that directly in front of him was a very thick, very sturdy-looking pole sticking out of the ground, and it was coming up very, _very_ fast.

Bill let go of the steering wheel and threw himself backwards into the seat, screaming. That was all he had time for before the car met the pole and something exploded out of the steering wheel in front of his face, and everything went black.

* * *

><p>Dib had tried to keep up with the car at first. He <em>thought <em>that since he was an intangible ghost at the moment he should be able to fly as quickly as he wanted, but that proved not to be the case. Bill was just driving too fast—well above the speed limit, Dib was sure—and he soon lost sight of the car entirely.

He hovered above the street for a few minutes, wondering if he'd ever been this completely powerless or alone before. No one other than Bill had any idea of his predicament. There'd been one other time when an impostor had taken his place, but that had been a shoddy robot built by Zim. Dib had even managed to gain control over its vocal processors and warn Gaz about what was going on. No chance of that this time…

"Come on, Dib, get a hold of yourself," he said. "You've gotten out of worse than this."

Yeah, maybe, but every one of those times he'd actually had a corporeal body and was capable of interacting with the world. He had to go someplace and try to find a way to get help, and with Gaz being unresponsive, he only had one other choice.

He sighed, then gained altitude and looked around to get his bearings. Once he knew where he was he turned and flew off in the direction of a certain odd, purple-and-green house.

* * *

><p>When Dib reached the front walk of Zim's house, the giant lawn gnomes stationed in the yard paid him no heed for once. One advantage to being a ghost, he supposed. He flew over the lawn and phased right through the purple front door.<p>

"Hello? Zim?" he called. The house only had two rooms (a living room and a kitchen with a toilet in it so maybe it doubled as a bathroom? Oh _yuck_) and both of them were empty. Maybe Zim was down in the extended underground base. Dib was just about to look for a way down there when the door crashed open and a little teal-eyed robot skipped in, toting a pig in his arms.

"I got somethin' in the fridge for you!" the robot chirped to the pig, leaving the door hanging wide open and running to the kitchen.

"Hey! Weird evil robot thing!" Dib flew down in front of him, waving his arms in the android's face. "Where's Zim?"

The robot didn't acknowledge him at all and continued into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a large bowl of some goopy substance that Dib didn't even want to try to identify. He tipped it forward and held it near the pig's mouth. "OPEN WIDE!"

The pig squealed, squirming away and kicking the robot in the face, then jumped to the ground and galloped out the front door.

"Bye-bye pig!" the robot called, waving. He shoveled a handful of the fridge glop into his mouth and put it back away, humming as he walked back over to the couch and flopped on top.

"Look, um, GIR—that's your name, right?" Dib said earnestly, floating back over to him. "I know you can't really hear me, but could you give me some sort of hint about where Zim is anyway? C'mon!"

GIR picked up a remote control and flipped on the TV.

"Are—are you ever any actual help at all? To anyone? Ever?" Dib said, dropping his arms.

In the background, some lady announcer on the TV was in the middle of making a news report. "—And so, seeing as the 'missing left sock' phenomena is possibly paranormal in origin, naturally we put Bill on the case."

Dib whirled around. "Bill?!"

Instead of a floating yellow triangle or even Dib's own body with yellow eyes and slit pupils, a tall man wearing sunglasses and a trench coat appeared on the screen. "Yes, it's me. I've deduced that while many people believe elves are behind the sock theft, the more likely answer is that the socks simply fell behind the washing machine and were forgotten about." He leaned toward the camera. "But that doesn't account for all the times you've lost the pen you were just writing with! That really _was_ taken by time-traveling elves, and used in a colossal space battle taking place across three multiverses!"

Dib glared. "Oh, it's _that_ guy." He was the alleged paranormal investigator who had dragged Dib around town on Career Day, chasing after costumed cereal mascots while Dib had been trying to catch Zim in the act of molting.

The announcer continued on. "This just in—we're receiving reports of a speeding car being driven by what looks to be a preteen boy!"

"Okay, _that's_ the Bill I need to know about!" Dib rushed forward, looking closely at the screen. "Where's the car? Does it say where the car is? Or where it's heading?"

"_You know what, I just now realized you're back," _the base's computer voice said suddenly. "_Zim was looking for you."_

Dib looked up, missing the rest of the news report. "Huh? Zim was looking for me?" Oh wait, the computer was actually talking to GIR. Of course.

"_He thought you were kidnapped or something and went out somewhere," _the computer went on._ "Maybe you should go find him before he does something stupid and gets himself killed because otherwise I'll be out of a job."_

That was the most useful piece of information Dib had heard so far. Evidently Zim wasn't here at all and he probably hadn't been for some time. But where had he gone? And why did he think GIR had been captured? The robot was quite obviously fine. Oh well, that wasn't overly important right now. Dib had to get back to Bill and find a way out of this mess. He looked back at the TV but it was now showing someone reporting the weather. Dib frowned, gave up, and headed toward the front door.

…Although… He stopped just before leaving and looked over his shoulder, taking in the alien house with calculating eyes.

Being basically nonexistent to everyone and everything gave him an advantage that he'd likely never have again. Maybe he should take the opportunity to find his way down to the base and take a look around. Just for a few minutes…

Yeah, that seemed like a reasonable course of action. Bill couldn't do too much damage in his body, right?

Dib located the entrance to one of the elevators and phased through the floor into the tube, gliding down into the heart of Zim's base and preparing to take a _lot _of mental notes.

* * *

><p>About ten cars drove straight past the crash site, the drivers staring at the wreck with wide eyes and then hurrying away, before one pulled up next to it. After seeing one stop a few others followed suit and the drivers clambered out of their vehicles, rushing over to the crashed car.<p>

"What happened?!" someone asked.

The driver-side window was rolled down, so one person peered inside. "There's a kid in the front seat! I don't see anyone else."

There was indeed a small boy lying unconscious in the seat, possibly having been knocked out by the airbag. He had a couple of obvious bruises and his nose was bloody.

"Was that kid _driving?"_

Someone else peeked in. "Wow, he looks all kinds of messed up."

"Is he still alive?"

"Well I mean the airbag deployed, right? But he's, uh, barely breathing. I think. I can't really tell…"

"—have to get him to the hospital. Anyone know where the hospital is?"

"Call an ambulance."

"They're already on their way!"

"Who _is_ this kid?"

"I dunno—wait, isn't this one of Professor Membrane's kids? The weird one who's always ranting about ghosts and stuff?" One of the onlookers whipped out their phone and started an Internet search, pulling up a photo of the great Professor Membrane with two small figures standing in the background. "See?"

"Oh yeah… So Professor Membrane's his dad? Should we try to send him some sort of message about this?"

At that moment, there was a loud siren, and an ambulance pulled up next to them. Most of the people in the group took that as their signal to scatter and go about their business.

* * *

><p>Bill tumbled onto the ground and lay there for a second, eyes wide. No, wait. He blinked a few times. <em>Eye. <em>Oh—okay then.

Well_ that_ had been a moment of sheer heart-stopping terror he wasn't used to.

What had caused that? Had he actually been petrified with fear or had that been an automatic reaction of his stolen body? Oh, that last one, definitely. Right, the body, haha, that kid with the glasses and the… weird pointy hair. Was he still in that body? _No, _he was lying flat on his back in the prickly gray grass somewhere; he must have gotten kicked out of the body, and he wasn't entirely sure where he was since it was, hah, a little difficult to make out his surroundings from this vantage point.

He jumped to his feet and looked around, catching sight of a car a few yards away that had its front end crushed in. A couple of adults clustered around it, talking, and nearby there was a parked ambulance with a few paramedics lifting a tiny, dark-clothed figure onto a stretcher.

"Hey! Wait!" Bill called, but of course no one could hear him. He blinked, his pupil constricting. The black-and-white world around him was fading a little to be replaced by an inky void filled with stars. His foot slipped right through the vanishing ground.

Bill snapped to action at once, yanking his leg out. "Whoa whoa whoa wait NO!"

He pelted toward the car he'd inadvertently totaled; the world around him was still fading, more quickly now—he couldn't exist here for long in his real form without latching onto an unconscious mind, and with no one around summoning him or on the verge of falling asleep he was being drawn back into the dreamscape.

He reached the stretcher seconds before it disappeared completely and touched the small booted foot hanging off the edge, quickly re-entering the body. Everything went dark once more, but it was a different kind of dark than what he'd experienced when he'd crashed.

Bill laughed. It was just light snickering at first, then it grew, the laughter swelling until he was pitching back and forth in hysterics and his eyes snapped open. The world was solid and in color again. He grinned, stretching his lips over his teeth. "_Whoo!_ Hahaha! I made it!"

The giant face of a paramedic loomed over him, eyes wide in surprise. "You're awake? You're lucky you _did_ make it. I'm amazed that collision didn't kill you."

"Huh? Oh. Yeah! That too!" Bill sat up on the stretcher and slid down onto the ground, to the shock of the paramedics carrying the thing. As soon as his feet hit the asphalt his knees buckled and he ended up face-planting on the ground for the second time in a couple hours. He blinked and raised himself up on his elbows, trying to wiggle his toes. "Hey! I think my legs are dead!"

They certainly _felt_ dead. They also kinda felt like someone had recently been smashing lead weights into them and his back wasn't much better off. His face, too, felt hot and swollen, and he prodded at the stiff skin with one finger, frowning. He tried to lever himself back up and, right at that moment, his stomach heaved and emptied its contents right out of his mouth and onto the road. He spluttered, spitting and squirming backwards in horror. "Oh—_Oh! _I didn't sign up for _this! _What is this?!"

"Kid, we have to take you to the hospital!" one of the paramedics said, kneeling down next to him.

"Hospital?" Bill coughed, rolling over onto his back and glaring up at him. "Why? I'm perfectly fine!" He retched and shuddered and for some reason his face drained of blood, becoming cold. "Dumb—hahahaha—humans!" He picked himself up, tried to get back on his feet, and fell over again on his side. "I don't have any weak—_hrp—_any weaknesses!"

Actually his stomach was roiling and it was kind of doing weird things to his eyesight. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them back up but it didn't make a difference. Everything was a little blurry and he almost wondered if the kid's glasses had fallen off his face. Also his eyes were watering a bit and the blood-pumping organ buried in his ribcage had gone into overdrive and was making him take really fast, shallow breaths, and his chest and legs ached, which was interesting, but all of that made it pretty difficult to want to get back up. How did humans stand this?

His muscles tensed up as the two paramedics gripped his arms and pulled him to his feet again, trying to set him none-too-gently back on the stretcher.

"Hey! You know what? I'm kind of in a hurry!" Bill struggled against them, panting.

"Should we restrain him?" one paramedic asked the other.

Bill glared for a second, reached into the pocket of the coat he was wearing, and managed to grab the box of matches resting in there. He picked out four and struck them together. "Sure, restrain me to this!" he said, and dropped the burning clump next to him on the stretcher.

The cloth caught fire right away and the paramedics yelled, releasing him. He jumped back down again and stumbled, catching himself on his hands this time, and regained his footing, swaying a little as he stumbled away. "Gee, hope you've got a fire extinguisher handy in that big van of yours!" he said, gesturing to the ambulance. "I'll just be off doing the things this big-headed kid usually does!"

The paramedics were preoccupied with the burning stretcher and seemed to have forgotten about him entirely. Still, he didn't want to take any chances, so he turned and loped off.

* * *

><p>While Dib found himself finally managing to explore Zim's base without fear of discovery, Zim had gone to Dib's house and met with unexpected resistance at the front door.<p>

"Zim, you're not making any sense," Gaz said, one eyebrow raised.

Zim growled. "The circle symbol!" he burst out. "What is that circle symbol the filthy _Dib _has with him all the time?"

"…You mean that face on his shirt?"

"No! The other one!"

Gaz frowned, partially opening her eyes to fix him with a scathing glare, and grunted. "Stay there." She disappeared back into the house.

"I will _not_ stay here!" Zim called after her. "You can't tell _Zim_ where to—! …Oh, you're back."

The girl thrust a piece of paper and a pen at him. "Draw it."

After a second, Zim snatched them from her. "Fine! If it's the only way to get it through your thick _hhhhyoomin _skull!" He kneeled down on the front walk, spreading out the paper in front of him and clicking open the pen. "Okay, there's a couple of circles and stuff. And a dot, and… pointy… things." He drew two wobbly concentric circles with a dot in the middle, then 'greater than' and 'less than' signs on either side.

"That looks kind of like Dib's secret society symbol," Gaz said, peering at it. "There, you can go now."

"I knew it!" Zim crumpled up the paper in his fist and jumped to his feet. "Dib _is _behind this! I think I know the building where this '_society'_ lives. I've seen Dib going there before."

Gaz started to close the door but Zim blocked it with his foot. "Where is the Dib?" he demanded.

"What's he done this time?"

"He stole my robot—" Zim gnashed his teeth. "I mean, that's none of your business, puny… _Earth head!"_

Gaz snorted. "For an alien insult, that was pretty pathetic. Anyway, Dib's not even here right now. I'm done talking to you." She snapped the door closed in his face and he didn't manage to catch it this time.

Zim scowled. He clearly remembered that the men who had broken into his house and stolen GIR had been wearing that very insignia. And if _Dib_ was connected to that symbol, he had to be behind it!

* * *

><p>Bill stood before the building, looking up at it with his hands on his hips and his face cracked in a smile, completely over the ordeal of the past ten minutes or so.<p>

"Ah, here at last!" he said. "Now all I have to do is break in!" He paused for a moment, head tipped to the side as if in thought. Then he grinned again. "Oh, _wait!_ Now I remember!" Laughing, he reached out and pressed his hand to a scanner on the wall. It _ding_ed, flashed green, and the door unlocked and allowed him to push his way inside.

He'd come into the building through a side entrance. Someone walking by in a fedora and trench coat did a double take when they saw him, then looked somewhat annoyed. "Agent Mothman, what are you doing here? No one wants to hear your rants this early in the morning. Also why is your nose covered in blood. That's so completely unsanitary."

"Oh, I specifically messed up my nose just to weird you out!" Bill said cheerfully. He waved the guy off. "Haha, not really! And if someone like, say, the police or something comes looking for me, I'll be down in the lobby!" He started off down the hall.

"The police? What did you do this time?" the guy asked from behind him.

"I stole a car and plowed it into a telephone pole!" Bill looked over his shoulder and flashed him a wide, toothy grin. Then he turned a corner and the agent was lost from his sight.

The headquarters of the Swollen Eyeball Network were mostly underground, with a hall lined with elevators that led from the surface floor down to the many basement levels. Bill walked up to one of the elevators and pressed the down button with his thumb, standing back while he waited.

About a minute passed with nothing happening and he clasped his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels. He smiled and hummed a few bars of one of the songs that had played in the car.

"That elevator's broken," another trench-coated agent said, emerging from a room at the end of the hall and looking over at him. "The 'Out of Order' sign just keeps disappearing."

Bill glanced up. "Oh, it's broken, huh? Broken how?"

The agent narrowed his eyes. "Broken as in, if you tried to go down that way there wouldn't _be_ an elevator and you'd plummet down a fifty-foot elevator shaft."

"That sounds great!" Bill said, punching the button again. "So why won't the doors open?"

The agent shook his head and walked away. "Just take a different elevator."

The doors to this one obviously weren't going to yield for him, so he jumped to a different elevator at about a forty-five degree angle across the hall. He hit that button and waited, scratching at his forearm under the long sleeve of the kid's coat. Itchiness was a _weird_ sensation. He scratched harder and his arm went from itching to stinging, and when he pulled his hand back out one of his fingernails drew a line of red down his skin. He pulled his sleeve back and studied the wound. Fingernails were weird, too!

_Ding!_ The elevator finally arrived and Bill stepped inside, examining the buttons near the door. "Look at all these floors! Imagine all the damage I could do on any one of them!" He laughed, flexing his fingers. "For now I think I'll go with L, for lobby!"

He pressed the L button and leaned back against the elevator wall with his hands in his pockets. Maybe once he was done here he could go back over to that kid's house and try more of those syrup-covered hot peppers. Where was that kid, anyway? Bill closed his eyes and extended his mental influence over the mindscape, a task that required barely any energy expenditure whatsoever in his true form but was a more difficult feat while trapped in a fleshy meat body. He finally located the kid far away in that alien freak's underground house. "Hah! Well, that'll keep you busy for a while!" Bill said, opening his eyes again. He scuffed the heel of his boot on the wall behind him. "Man, these elevators like to take their time, don't they?"

The elevator shuddered to a stop on a floor several levels above the lobby and three people, all wearing the same outfits of fedoras and trench coats, filed inside. Bill gave them a relaxed little wave; noticing him, they all tried to back out, but the doors closed again too quickly. They settled for standing bunched up as far away from him as they could get in the small space.

"Hey! Want to know how many pounds of force we'd be hitting the ground with if the cables holding up this crate gave out right this second?" Bill asked.

The elevator stopped on the floor directly beneath the one they'd just come from and the three agents all hurried out into the hall. "Why don't you try that elevator?" Bill leaned out and pointed to the doors leading to the one he'd tried first. "The doors are stuck though so you'll have to open them yourselves! Have a great trip! See you next _fall!_" The elevator doors closed and it began to sink again.

After a second's thought, Bill jumped up in the air a little. There was a fluttery, split second feeling of weightlessness in his stomach, then his feet hit the floor again. Neat! With a laugh, he did it again, harder this time. He went a bit higher but landed oddly and lost his balance, toppling over and crashing into the wall. He caught hold of the metal railing running along the wall, his legs sprawled out over the ground, and snorted. "Pfffttt. _Gravity_."

Gravity was so ridiculous! The idea of giant clunky humans lumbering around and always being yanked back to the ground by a mysterious, invisible force was too hilarious of a mental image and he burst out laughing, still gripping the railing. Even better, without gravity there'd be humans tumbling all over the place, not to mention the repercussions that lack of gravity would have on Earth in general! But really, humans getting caught in trees, exploding in the thin atmosphere, hitting power lines and getting fried to a crisp. Floating humans. Bill wiped his eyes and steadied himself against the elevator walls. Ahh… nothing like a good joke to lighten up something as monotonous as a ten minute elevator ride.

At last the elevator stopped on the lobby floor and he left it, taking a sharp right and making his way into a wide room at the end of the hall. The room was empty save for a receptionist asleep at the desk with her cheek buried in one hand.

"Hey there, toots!" Bill said, standing on tip-toe to look over the edge of the desk at her. The woman started awake and stared down at him.

"Oh, hey, Agent Mothman," the woman greeted him, squinting. Her eyes widened and she choked. "What happened to your _face?"_

Bill tapped his nose. "To be honest, this was probably from falling down the stairs! I tripped about halfway down! Haha! So anyway I was wondering, have you gotten any calls from a dinky little town somewhere in Oregon called Gravity Falls?"

"Calls from Oregon?" Still looking dazed and half asleep, the receptionist thumbed through a thin stack of phone records until she found the one she was looking for. "…Um, yeah, there was one yesterday." She rubbed at her eyes and squinted at it. "Some kid wanted to know if we had any files on a mind demon named… Bill Cipher? I told him that we'd look and that he should call back tomorrow—well, that's today, I guess. We actually found some things, too, like apparently a lot of our documents somehow got sent to some paranormal store at the mall at one point. We'll have to get those later." She put away the records and yawned. "Why d'you ask?"

"Oh, no reason in particular!" Bill said. The phone on the desk started ringing. "Wow, what weirdly impeccable timing! Mind if I get that?"

The woman reached for the phone and gave him a confused look. "What? You know our phone calls are confidential. If I let you answer I'd probably lose my job."

"Really? Seems to me like you already just gave me all the details of what was supposed to be a confidential phone call, but okay! By the way, you know you look exhausted, right? Wouldn't you much rather ignore the phone and go back to _sleep?_"

Her face stretched in a huge yawn again. "Well, I _have_ been pulling all-nighters to try to get these findings about psychic vegetables typed up, but I can't sleep on the job…"

"I won't tell if you don't!" Bill said. "Deal?" He stuck out his hand.

Numbly, the receptionist took it, saying, "Fine whatever."

"Excellent! Nighty-night!" Bill let go of her hand and she collapsed in an unconscious heap on the desk. He reached up and pulled the ringing phone closer, taking the receiver and holding it to his ear. "Y'ello?"

"Oh, good, you picked up!" an excited kid on the other side said. "It's me again—Dipper Pines—from Oregon? I called here yesterday. Sorry it's so early but this was the only paranormal society I could find that might have the information I'm looking for—uh, don't ask where I even got your number—and I wanted to call as soon as there were people there." He paused. "Wait, did your voice change?"

Bill grinned. "I dunno, Pine Tree, you tell me!"

"Pine Tree? What—_Bill?_" There was a _clunk_ over the line. The kid had dropped the phone. There were a few staticky scuffling noises and then Pine Tree's voice could be heard again. "I don't understand! How are you talking over the phone? And why are you at that Eyeball place?!"

"Funny story about that!" Bill said, switching the phone to his other ear and leaning against the desk. "There's a kid over here who's way too interested in the supernatural for his own good! You know, kinda like you! Anyway, turns out he was the only person with access to this building who'd ever be dumb enough to summon me!"

"You stole another body?!" Dipper gasped.

"Stole? Nah, kid, more like 'borrowed until further notice.' Who'd want to be human permanently?" Bill laughed. "Besides, I didn't steal anything! We made a fair deal!"

"Oh, yeah, right, I'm sure that kid _totally_ agreed to be ripped out of his own body." Bill could practically see Pine Tree rolling his eyes. "Is he around there somewhere? HEY WHOEVER YOU ARE, YOU CAN TALK TO PEOPLE USING A PUPPET! TRUST ME ON THIS!"

Bill winced and held the phone away from his ear. "_Yeesh_ your voice is grating. He's not here, anyway!"

"What did you do to him?!"

"Why do you assume _I_ did anything?" Bill smiled, the teeth his his upper jaw protruding over his lip. "Anyway, we're getting off track! I have to say that it's too bad you called this place yesterday, Pine Tree, because now I've got to destroy everything here! It'll be fun, but, you know, there's other things I need to do, so I'm kind of on a schedule!"

"How'd you know I called there?" Dipper asked, a nervous edge to his voice.

Bill laughed again. "What, you think I'm not still keeping an eye on you all? That reminds me, how are Question Mark and that little girlfriend of his doing?"

"They're—um…"

"Great! Well, anyway, I'm pretty sure we both have places to be!" Bill interrupted. "Oh, and remember to keep an eye on that precious journal you've got. It may just disappear right out from under your nose one day! All right, later!"

"Wait, what? No! Nonono Bill don't—"

Bill hung up the phone and cut off Dipper's protest. Then he got down on the floor, took the phone cord with both hands, and yanked it out of the wall. It snapped with a fizz of sparks. The receptionist at the desk, still asleep, mumbled something about clairvoyant potatoes and started to snore.

"Well, that's done!" Bill dusted off his hands. "Now on to the next part!"

Man, this was gonna be cool.

* * *

><p>AN: Driving in my car *BEEP BEEP*

OBEYIN' THE LAW, sure is neat! hope no-one—wRECKS—intomeeeeeeee

oh wait a minute! herecomesacar, it'S MY luck-y day, plenty of time, to get, out of his way!

Driving in my car, *BEEP*-AAAAAAGGGHHH


	4. The Interrogation

Dib wasn't sure how much time had passed when he finally pulled away from the cool alien tech littering Zim's base and looked for a way back to the surface. The base was _huge_ and crammed with tons and tons of _stuff_, most of which Dib didn't even have a name for. He wished he could use a camera or even a notepad and pencil in his current state—but, of course, he couldn't, so he'd just have to remember every detail as well as he could.

And now he really had to go find Bill. Exploring an alien base was neat and everything, but every second he wasn't keeping track of his body was another second it might be dropped down another flight of stairs, or forced to eat more spicy foods…

He found an elevator and emerged back in the house level up through the toilet in the kitchen. (So _that's_ what it was used for. Well, good.) The TV was still on and the little robot was still watching it, lying upside down off the edge of the couch with his head resting on the floor. He was squeezing a squeaky little moose doll that he must have found while Dib was down in the base.

"That was amazing!" Dib said, unable to resist flying over to him. "And Zim'll never know I was even here! Hehe… unless I tell him all about it. I might tell him just to see the look on his face. Um, later. When I actually _can_ tell him stuff."

Without warning, GIR tumbled onto the floor, jumped up, and crowed, "MARY! Mary's on the TV!" Then he flopped back down on the couch and stuck the moose toy's head in his mouth, biting down hard and making the toy emit a loud squeal.

Dib glanced at the TV behind him and saw that it was still just playing the news. "Who's Mary—?"

His heart stopped for a moment. The news report was showing footage of a wrecked car, and an ambulance, which wasn't unusual in the city—but being pulled out of the car was a limp form, a boy wearing a black coat, displaying no signs of life, and he was being set down on a—a _stretcher…_?

"What—that's _me!_" Horror-stricken, Dib rushed forward and tried to press his hands to the screen, only to have them pass right through the glass. "Bill actually _wrecked the car?_"

"Allegedly, the young boy in the driver's seat actually was driving the vehicle and hit a telephone pole at high speeds," the reporter announced.

"Did Bill kill my body?!" Dib's eyes were wide and he felt a kind of hollow, empty dread overtake him. "Am I _dead?_"

He was fixated on the footage, which was blurry and pixelated and looked like it was taken with a cell phone. Suddenly the figure on the stretcher started tossing and turning and Dib felt like he could breathe again. He was still alive.

On the screen his body—Bill—sat up and jumped off the stretcher only to fall a few times and get sick, which made Dib cringe and back away. When the paramedics carrying the demon to an ambulance tried to force him back onto the stretcher he lit a handful of matches and set the entire thing ablaze. The footage stopped there; whoever had taken the video must have run away at the sight of the fire. The reporter came back on and promptly turned the program over to the weather guy.

Dib clenched his fists, staring in disbelief at the TV. "Bill nearly killed me! That _horrible_ little—_triangle!_" He whipped around, darting back to GIR. "All right, where's Zim? I mean it this time! Can you hear me?"

GIR ignored him. Dib reached down, yanked the moose out of the robot's claws, and held it up out of reach. "How about now? Huh? Huh? Can you hear me _now?"_

The robot shrieked, falling backwards and scrambling away. "TALKIN' MOOSE! IT'S A TALKIN' MOOSE!" He hopped to the ground in a fit of mad giggles and rolled around on the carpet.

"Um…" Dib lowered the moose. A thought occurred to him. "Wait, did you just hear me? How—?" He looked at the moose he was holding, and realized something equally as astonishing—that he _was_ holding it. Through some bizarre twist of fate he'd managed to pick it up and it seemed he was able to speak through it. "Hey! I can talk again!" He squeezed the moose and it squeaked. "Maybe I can touch inanimate objects that represent something that has a face? And use them to talk even though the mouth isn't moving? For some reason? It doesn't matter! I could go warn people about Bill now! Or get Gaz's help! Or something! I'm just going to have to take this, sorry." He pointed to the moose even though he knew GIR couldn't see him. "I'll give it back when this is all over."

"NoooooOOO! MY _MOOSE!_" GIR screamed. Bright blue flames erupted out of the bottoms of his feet and he blasted upward, took hold of the doll, and dropped back down, yanking Dib down with him. "It's my talkin' moose! I'm gonna sell him for bacon!"

"Hey!" Dib yelped and tried to wrestle the doll away from GIR. "_Gah—_Stop! I need this more than you do! Leave it alone, c'mon! Quit it! Would you leave it alone?"

He finally managed to shove GIR away and clutched the doll to his chest. "Can't you just go back to watching TV or something? Just forget I even took the doll! All you were doing with it was biting its head, anyway."

The little robot looked blank for a moment, then beamed, yelled "OKEE!" and jumped back onto the couch.

Dib backed away. "That's a relief," he muttered to himself.

An alarm buzzer sounded, startling him. "_Intruder detected!" _the voice of the base computer said. "_Prepare to be destroyed!_"

A robotic claw dropped out of the ceiling and shot towards Dib.

"NYAHHH!" Dib flung himself out of the way, dropping the doll, and the claw paused before snapping loosely at the spot where he had just been. Dib dove for the doll and scooped it up off the floor.

"_Uh…_" The claw snapped at him again, passing right through Dib's forearm. "_Okay, I give up_. _I don't really want to deal with demon mooses._" The claw retracted back into the ceiling.

Dib frowned. "Okay, first of all, it's just 'moose.' And second of all it's not a demon moose, it's just me, only I'm sort of like a ghost right now." Struck with an idea, he moved forward, still clutching the doll. "Anyhow, Zim's weird evil computer thing… Where _is_ Zim? Where did he go?"

"_I don't talk to ghosts_," the computer said.

"Oh, come on, I'm not a real ghost!" Dib said exasperatedly. "Where did Zim go?"

"_Last night he was yelling about intruders taking GIR and ran out somewhere. I dunno."_

"Last night?" Dib stared at the ceiling in confusion for a moment. What had happened to Zim last night to make him think GIR had been kidnapped? Obviously nothing whatsoever had happened to the robot, and the computer apparently didn't have any idea what had convinced Zim that someone had taken him, either. So Zim was just having one of his weird delusions again, but why…

Dib almost dropped the doll. _Bill._

He had sent the demon into Zim's mind to implant a memory. Had Bill implanted the wrong one?! Instead of Zim's leaders telling him not to wear his disguise, Zim seemed to have a fake memory of people breaking in and taking GIR. "Did he say who did it?"

"_Nah. It was probably something to do with that Dib kid."_

Dib opened his mouth to make an irritated retort but gave up. "Okay, well, thanks, I guess." Figuring he'd get no further information here, he turned and flew out the open front door with the moose still clenched in his hand.

"I can't believe I can actually talk to people again!" he said when he'd drifted some distance away. "I should go try it out on someone who won't be freaked out by a floating moose toy, though. Like Gaz. But Gaz might not listen to me. Maybe I should keep looking for Zim, or… Hey, I know! Dad!" He smiled hopefully, then furrowed his brow. "…And I'm talking out loud to myself again."

* * *

><p>Zim was coming to realize that he had chosen a poor spot from which to scrutinize the nondescript door in the wall of the building a few feet away. The view was great. The smell was <em>disgusting<em>.

He peered around the old dumpster, eyes narrowed and nails digging into the peeling green paint through his gloves. Under his wig his antennae were slicked flat to his scalp and he made an effort to breathe only through his mouth. Stench clung to the filth receptacle and surrounded it like a cloud. Zim let go of the dumpster and crept toward the door, examining it up and down. There was a hand scanner on the wall next to it. He should have expected something like that. This was Dib's secret society, after all. The Dib was paranoid and liked to lock everything up with locks and keep other people out.

Zim hesitated for a moment, then reached out and pressed his palm to the hand scanner. Nothing happened. Maybe it was because of his gloves.

Suddenly the door swung open to reveal the building's dark interior and Zim found himself face-to-face with an all-too-familiar human boy wearing huge round glasses and a black jacket. Blood was smeared under his nose and a wide grin stretched across his face.

"_Dib!_" Zim spat, drawing backwards. His PAK legs expanded out behind him and dug into the concrete ground.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the bug-eyed alien freak!" Dib leaned one arm against the door, planting his other hand on his hip. "Zimmy! Zimbelina! I thought I might find you out here! Coming in?" He gestured into the building.

Zim didn't make a move forward. "What did you do with my robot?" he growled, clenching his fists.

"Who, me? Nothing at all!" Dib tipped his head to the side. "Also, just sayin', you really might want to come in! These people don't particularly like spies and whatever snooping around in their garbage!"

Still glaring, Zim slipped through the doorway and circled around Dib, rising up a bit on his PAK legs as they clinked against the floor. Dib stepped away from the door and let it swing closed. It locked with a _click_.

"So!" The human clapped his hands together. "What brings you here? Just the robot?"

"Yes, _Dibworm_," Zim said. "Where. Is. GIR?"

Dib stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, smiling. "Hm… well, I _might_ know where he is, but what makes you think I'd tell you?"

"You _will_ tell me!" Zim rushed forward, lashing out with two PAK legs to block the Dib human from walking away. "You'll tell me _now!_"

Dib regarded him, grinning widely. Zim couldn't recall Dib ever smiling like that before. He shifted backwards a little.

"Yeah, I don't think so!" Dib laughed. "What would be the fun in that? But hey, maybe I can help you look! Provided you did something for me later, of course."

"I don't want your filthy Dib help!" Zim touched his feet back to the ground, his biomechanical legs snapping back into his PAK. "I'll find GIR _myself_."

"Oh, will you!" Dib said. "Well, good luck getting five feet in this place without this!" Before Zim could make any move to stop him, Dib reached out and snatched his wig off his head.

"Hey!" Zim cried. He lunged to take it back but Dib pushed him back with one hand, holding the other away and twirling the wig on one finger. Dib then jumped backwards and brandished his arms around the hallway.

"Welcome to the headquarters of the Swollen Eyeball Network, Greenie!" he said, and leaned forward. "Whaddaya think they'll do when they see an alien walking around in the halls, _hmmmm? _Does the word 'vivisection' ring any bells? That'd be a sight to see! I bet it wouldn't be nearly so fun to live through, though! Haha!"

He pushed the wig into Zim's chest. Zim grabbed it back, fumbled with it, and shoved it back on top of his head. He spun around and ran to the door, heaving at it and leaning all his weight on it, but it didn't budge.

"Oh, forgot to mention!" Dib paced toward him. "You need my handprint to leave through any of these doors!" He indicated another hand scanner on the wall by the door. "Looks like you're stuck here, pal! Sorry!"

"It's locked from the _inside_ as well?" Zim stepped away from the door, clutching his hands under his chin and rubbing them together. "This was a trick to lure me in here and do experimenting on me!" He rounded on Dib. "I _knew_ it was a trick! You'll never get me into your filthy _dissecting room_, Dib-filth."

"Haha, yep, that was a little bit of a trick!" Dib smiled. "You catch on quick, kid! But I'm not planning on doing any experiments! So are you gonna reconsider my offer? I'll help you find this robot of yours and keep you from getting caught, and you'll do something for me later!"

Zim gnawed at his lip, glaring at the human. "There isn't another way out of here, is there. Fine," he said in a low voice. "I'll do you a filthy _favor_. If, and only _if_, you assist me in finding GIR."

"It's a deal!" Dib stuck out his hand.

Zim narrowed his eyes and snatched the human's wrist, turning his hand over to search for tacks or other hidden weapons and finding none. He gingerly shook Dib's hand and let go as quickly as possible.

"Okay then, it's time we got a move on!" Dib said cheerfully. "They could be disassembling that robot any minute now!"

Zim sucked his lower lip into his mouth. They would _not_ dissect GIR. _NEVER_.

The human started off down the hallway. Zim had no real choice but to follow.

"So anyway, since we're working together I might as well tell you my plans here!" Dib said. He looked over his shoulder at Zim and grinned that unnerving new grin of his. "I'm gonna delete or burn every piece of information they've got here and bring the whole place to the ground! HAHAHA!"

"Eh?" Zim stopped in his tracks. "Why would _you_ do _that?_"

"Oh, well, you might say I'm not really myself today!" Dib gave a playful smirk. "You can help me destroy this place if you want!"

Zim narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I'm only here for GIR!"

"Okay, suit yourself!" Dib continued on. "Don't say I didn't warn you when you're captured and strapped to an autopsy table, though! And just think—if you helped me, that would never happen! Oh well!"

He made a compelling argument.

* * *

><p>He took to watching the alien out of the corner of his eye, catching every nervous little movement as the creature followed along behind him while trying to look like he was here entirely by his own choice. It was really pretty funny.<p>

Despite the alien's earlier protests, he nearly mirrored Bill's every move and didn't seem too keen on going off on his own. Bill reached a door at the end of the hall and pressed his hand to a scanner to open it, peeking inside. The room beyond was covered wall to wall in flickering computer monitors.

"Something tells me you're pretty good at smashing things!" Bill said to the bug-eyed alien, pushing the door open wider. "You want to do the honors?"

Zim looked hesitant but he stormed past Bill, expanded those funky metal spider legs out of his electronic backpack and arced them around his body, then shot concentrated beams of energy at the computers until they either melted down with molten plastic dripping onto the ground or blew up and burst into flame.

"That's not quite 'smashing,' but great job anyway!" Bill said. "This isn't a room where they keep paper documents, so we'll have to go somewhere else for those. Then we'll have to take the elevators down to get to other rooms! Hold on a minute, though."

He walked past Zim and made for a little metal box bolted to the wall, which he pried open with little difficulty. There was a small red button inside. He pressed that with his thumb and closed the box again. "And now to the next room!"

They went through five more rooms in much the same way, blasting the computers and pressing the button in each room, jumping from hall to hall until Bill led Zim to the hallway lined with elevators. He hit the down button on the one nearest them, then clasped his hands behind his back while the jittery alien stood next to him, glancing around every so often like he was expecting to be ambushed. Bill smiled and side-eyed him. "Hey, don't worry, I sent out an alert about paranormal tampering in the lobby! Seems someone put the receptionist down there in a near death-like sleep, so that'll keep everyone occupied for a few hours!" He pushed the button again. "By the way these are basically the slowest elevators in existence so we might be waiting here a while!"

Zim ground his teeth. "Don't they have stairs?"

"Oh! Probably!" Bill swept his gaze back and forth until he spotted a door labeled as a stairwell. "Well that answers that question!" He darted over to the stairwell and pushed his way inside. "Come on! We've got a little bit of a time limit on this!"

The alien followed after him through the door into the cold stairwell, chasing after Bill as he hopped down the stairs two at a time. "Time limit?"

"Yeah, I've been activating this building's self-destruct system. Once all the buttons are pressed the entire place'll blow up in a matter of minutes!"

"Since when does _Dib_ want to destroy all the paranormal-y secrets he spends so much time researching?" Zim demanded. "What are you _doing?"_

"Look, Greenie, if you haven't figured out that something's up by now, you're never going to. So just give it a rest!" Bill stopped on the next landing they came to and pulled open a door. "Here's our next stop! That was marginally faster than taking the elevator!"

"Also, I _thought_ we were going to look for GIR!" Zim said, pursuing him out into the new hallway. "You said you knew where he was!"

"Nope! I said I _might_ know! There's a subtle but important difference! And hey, we're checking pretty much every room so we're bound to come across him eventually, doncha think?" Bill popped his head into the next room they came to and grinned. "And here's where the paper documents are kept! Whoa-_hoh,_ look at all those filing cabinets! We'll have a time in here! I might have to get more matches! Actually, I think I might know where I can find a lighter!" He backed out of the room again and faced Zim, tossing him the box of matches in his pocket. "Here, get the fire started! I'll be back in a minute."

Zim threw the box on the ground and scattered matches across the floor. "No more burning things! I'm going to go find my robot!"

Bill _tsk_ed. "Oh, come on, you're a little pyromaniac and you know it. Anyway, I'm sure they still have a few guards around! You're pretty much toast if you start wandering around without me!"

"There hasn't been anyone around! At all!" Zim shouted. "If you want to break stuff then do it by yourself! I don't care! Bye!" He turned on his heel and stalked off, shoulders hunched.

"G'bye, then!" Bill called. "Have fun wandering around aimlessly until someone finds out you're here! Haha." He left the door and headed down the hallway. "I'm gonna go find that lighter!"

No sooner had he reached the end of the hall and turned a corner than the odd little hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, prickling, and he paused. "Hold on, someone's here. I can feel—"

Someone was indeed there because just as he spun around, a dark figure grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him backwards. They pulled a black cloth over his face and tied it behind his head to block his eyes, knocking the glasses he was wearing askew. "Whoa! Hey! What gives?"

Whoever had blindfolded him grabbed his hands and bound them together behind his back. Then the person took a firm grip on his upper arms and dragged him off, the heels of his boots scraping against the ground.

* * *

><p>Bill was pushed roughly into what felt like a hard wooden chair. The blindfold was torn off, leaving his glasses crooked and causing a few strands of messy black hair to waft in his face and tickle his nose. A giant face loomed down into his; he leaned backwards automatically, and someone shined a bright light directly into his right eye. He winced and squeezed that eye closed while using the other to take a quick look around. Then the blinding light was focused on the left eye for a moment, too, before it was moved away and he was able to see more clearly. He was sitting at a table in a dark room somewhere with a single bare lightbulb dangling from the ceiling right above him. There were other people around the table, but all he could make out were their silhouettes.<p>

He huffed, going cross-eyed and wrinkling his nose in an effort to sit the glasses straight again. "All right, all right, you got me!" he said to his captors. "You can untie my hands now!"

"I don't think so," one of the people around the table said in a gruff voice. "You're not going anywhere."

Bill squinted at him. "Haha! I like your style! But seriously, I'm as much of a fan of mystery and suspense as anyone else, but next time give a guy some warning before you tie him up and shine a light in his eye!" He straightened up and looked around again, both eyes open this time. "So what are we here for, anyway?"

The person standing closest to Bill, and the one who'd shined a pen light into his eyes a moment ago, was an oldish man who had bushy eyebrows, a goatee, and a bald spot on top of his head.

"It's just like I thought," the man said, clicking off the light and nodding. "A classic case of possession." He turned to the other people around the table. "Agent Mothman's been compromised."

They all gasped.

Bill looked up. "Oh! You're referring to me, right? What would possibly make you think I was _possessed?_" He grinned, displaying every tooth in his mouth. "Seems a little extreme, doesn't it? I mean, in order to be possessed I'd have to have done something _really_ stupid, like summon a demon with a pamphlet I got at the mall! But who'd do something like that?"

The old man leaned closer to him. He smelled like cleaning supplies and old coffee. "Who are you? What is your name?"

Bill looked him up and down. "My name? Hm, probably Dib! Haha! But you already knew that, didn't you? What about my last name? Do you know that? Bet you'll never guess it! Here, I'll give you a hint: it doesn't start with an M!"

"This isn't working," one of the agents said.

"If you won't tell us your name, tell us what you're doing at this organization," the old man continued, glaring down at him.

"Oh, that's easy. I'm a member!" Bill replied. "Unless I got kicked out! Did I miss the memo about that? That's pretty unfortunate, not gonna lie!"

The old man slammed his hands down on the table. "Where is the real Agent Mothman?"

"Sitting right in front of you!" Bill stared at him intently. "Wow, your eyes must be even worse than mine, and that's saying something! So is there anything else you wanted or are we done here?"

One of the agents in the shadows moved forward. "We know something strange is going on. The receptionist in the lobby is in such a deep sleep that no one can wake her up and the phone cord is broken."

"Uh _huh_. By any chance, have any of you been to the rooms upstairs lately?" Bill asked. The room rang with a chorus of confused murmuring. Obviously they hadn't.

"And another thing, you've been behaving really oddly!" another agent added.

Bill gave a light scoff. "So what exactly is odd behavior for me?" he asked. The people around the table were silent.

"Agent Darkbootie, it's obviously a demon," one of the other agents appealed to the old man. "Isn't there a way of removing it from the body?"

Bill's mouth twisted, and then he burst out laughing. "AHAHAHA! Agent _Darkbootie?_ That's what you call yourself? Well, I already knew that, but it's different hearing it out loud! How do you expect anyone to take you seriously with a name like that? Even _I_ can't take you seriously, and I'm a floating one-eyed triangle with a bow tie!" He scooted backwards in the chair and hopped down. "Anyway, give yourselves a pat on the back! You were right! But, unfortunately, little scythe-head isn't anywhere around here. What do you suppose'll happen if you kick me out and this meat sack body is left without a pilot for hours and hours until you manage to find him? What happens to a _car_ left running without a pilot? Or a driver?" He laughed. "It crashes and burns! I know from experience!"

The Swollen Eyeball agents all jumped to their feet and surrounded Bill in a semicircle. None of them had a single weapon, though, except maybe one who was just holding a big container of salt. Bill nodded to it. "Do you carry that around wherever you go?"

"Leave that body or we'll be forced to take drastic measures!" the one called Agent Darkbootie said.

"Please, how am I supposed to believe you losers have ever actually even dealt with a real demon before?"

"I've dealt with creatures far more powerful than you," Darkbootie said, advancing forward.

Bill smiled. "You don't even know who I _am_."

At that moment a hole was blasted through the wall behind him, sending everyone scrambling backwards as rubble flew across the room and light from outside spilled into the room. Zim stood framed in the newly-made doorway, breathing heavily and glaring at the entire group.

"Hey, there you are, right on time!" Bill said. "What, didja follow us to this room or something?"

"Silence!" the alien snapped. He turned to the room in general, lifting up on his spider legs. "I know you've got my robot! Now where is he?"

The mechanical spider legs were likely the only things keeping the agents at bay. Most of them were looking at them with wide, excited eyes and exclaiming about encountering a demon and a probable alien on the same day.

Bill hurried to the hole in the wall. "Well, anyway, I've got to go! I'm pretty busy, if you haven't noticed! You can handle them, right, Buggy?"

Zim was moving forward, fury dancing in his fake gray-blue eyes.

Bill nodded. "Yep, thought so! See all of you later, then! Well, probably not. Bye!"

He happily exited the room and left the agents alone with Zim.

* * *

><p>Miles and miles away, young Dipper Pines sat curled up in a chair, twirling the phone cord in his fingers while he pressed the receiver to his ear.<p>

"This is Dipper Pines from Oregon!" he said into the phone in one breath. "I'm trying to warn you that—"

He was met by a sudden dial tone and lowered the phone. "Hung up," he said.

Kneeling next to him on top of a t-rex skull sitting by the chair was his twin sister, Mabel Pines. She leaned toward him with her hands pressing down on the chair's armrest. "How many has that been?"

Dipper sighed and set the receiver down. "I dunno. I lost count at thirty-seven."

"_Blaaarrggh_, we could keep this up all day and no one'll ever believe us!" Mabel sat up, pulling at her hair. "Are you _sure_ that was Bill on the phone?"

"Positive, Mabel! He infiltrated that Swollen Eyeball society to destroy the information there before I could get it, and he's going to wreck the whole place!" Dipper flipped open a hardbound book sitting on his lap and flicked through the pages. "Maybe there's something in the journal that could help in dealing with demon threats that are pretty much on the other side of the country, but I haven't been able to find anything yet. Like the only thing we can do right now is keep calling people in Michigan and hope that one of them knows what to do."

His sister rested her chin on her knees. "This is dumb."

"Would you rather just sit here knowing Bill's running around in some kid's body?" Dipper punched in the next phone number. He'd managed to find quite an extensive list of possible numbers, considering.

The phone rang for some time before someone finally picked it up on the other side.

"_What,_" came the response. It sounded like a little girl.

"Hi." Dipper hoped he didn't sound too worn out. "I'm Dipper Pines from Oregon and—"

"And I'm here too! Mabel!" Mabel cut in.

"Mabel!" Dipper shot her a frown, then returned his attention to the phone. "This is like the fiftieth number I've tried. I _need_ to warn someone about a demon running loose in your area!"

"Great. Bye," the girl said.

"Wait, wait!" Dipper said, frantically trying to catch her before she hung up like everyone else he'd tried. "Does someone named Professor Membrane live there? Can I talk to him?"

The girl paused. "Dad makes sure all of our phones are unlisted. How did you get this number?"

"That's our secret!" Mabel said.

So apparently the girl was the daughter of Professor Membrane, who seemed like an influential person that should definitely be told about the current situation. Dipper continued on. "Could you please just go tell Professor Membrane or someone that a demon possessed a kid's body and is running loose? He's going after an organization called the Swollen Eyeball Network and if someone doesn't stop him then multiple people could be injured or _worse_, and all the information they have about him will be destroyed!"

There was a long moment of silence. Dipper slid the twisted phone cord off his fingers and drummed them on one of the yellowed pages of the open journal, biting the inside of his cheek.

Finally the girl spoke up again. "And _how_ would this person have gotten possessed by a demon?"

Did she actually believe him?! He sat up straighter, which got Mabel's attention, and she started asking what was going on. Dipper talked over her as he tried to explain. "Um, okay, apparently some boy summoned Bill, and then Bill took over his body because he's manipulative and tricky and promises cool stuff that he doesn't follow through on. You can't trust him! Also, what's your name?"

"It's Gaz," the girl growled. "I have to go." There was a _click._

"Come on, seriously?" Dipper pulled the phone away from his ear. "She hung up!"

"Who did? Your new girlfriend?" The twins' great uncle, Stanford Pines, passed by the two of them, carrying a Pitt Cola in his hand.

"What? No, someone I was trying to—oh, nevermind." Dipper sighed again. "I guess this has all been just a huge waste of time. Sorry I woke you up for this, Mabel."

"Hey, if Bill's up to something again, _someone's _got to do something about it!" Mabel rocked back and forth on the skull and gave him a light punch in the shoulder. "Come on, bro, we'll think of something!"

"Yeah, I hope so." Dipper picked up the phone again and dialed another number.

It seemed like all they could do for the moment was make entirely unhelpful phone calls.

* * *

><p>"Hey! Can you open the doors? It's important!" Dib rose up in front of the armed guard standing by the door to his dad's lab. "I <em>have<em> to see Professor Membrane."

The guard took one look at the toy Dib was holding and screeched. "AAH! Demon moose! _Demon moose!_"

"It's not a demon moose!" Dib shouted. "It's just a regular moose! It's not _even _a moose, it's just a toy that I'm using to talk with! Could you _please_ open the door so I can take it inside and talk to my dad?"

The guard backed away, pressing against the door with his knees knocking together and his hands covering his face. He peeked through his fingers and let his electric spear slide out of his grip and clatter to the ground. "Have you come to steal my soul?" he whispered.

Dib scowled. "I won't steal your soul if you open the door."

"Yessir! Right away sir!" The guard scrambled to his feet and unlocked the door, opening it wide. "There you go! Have fun!"

"Great. Thanks." Dib flew through the open door, clenching the toy more tightly in his fist. "By the way, you're a _really terrible_ guard."

"I know…" the guard said morosely, scuffing his toe on the ground.

Dib flew through corridor after corridor lined with doors leading to different labs. He glanced through the window of each one but didn't see Professor Membrane anywhere. Where _was_ he?

"Dad?" Dib called, forgetting for a moment that his voice would be coming out of a stuffed moose toy. He passed a few scientists who were too preoccupied to bother with a floating moose—a man with tousled blond hair and glasses and a woman with dark hair in a ponytail who gave Dib a scathing glance before moving off—and finally found the right room at the very end of one of the halls, where his dad was giving a lecture to a small group of grade-skool students.

"Dad! Hey! Dad!" Dib called, drawing up next to the window in the door. He banged the moose toy on the glass. "_Dad!_"

One of the kids spotted the floating toy and screamed.

"Excellent, Tommy, that is the proper reaction to a local nuclear meltdown!" Membrane said to him. "Now, what is the next step?"

"Call you!" a girl sitting in the front row said.

Professor Membrane chuckled. "Excellent, little girl! Call me and I'll pencil you in for my next available slot, which should be within three months, give or take a few weeks. Well, kids, that's all the time we have. I have another group coming in at noon so you need to leave as quickly as possible!"

The kids stood up and filed toward the door, chattering amongst themselves. Dib backed up when they opened it, then flew forward and slipped through with the moose in hand. He darted in front of Professor Membrane, who was tidying up a table full of merchandise from his science show. "Dad!"

He didn't look up. "I'm sorry little boy, I don't sign autographs between groups! You'll have to wait for your next opportunity to come to one of my lectures!"

"No, Dad, it's me! Dib! Your _son!_" Dib said. "I was pulled out of my body by a demon and I need someone to help me get it back!"

Professor Membrane finally looked up and caught sight of the moose toy. "Now is not the time to practice your ventriloquism skills, son! I thought you were going to stay in your room after the shop-lifting business earlier!"

"Well, that was before a demon stole my body…" Dib said. "Look, why don't you just call me? All you'll have to do is talk to Bill and you'll realize he's not me!" Or maybe he wouldn't. Gaz had talked to Bill in Dib's body directly, after all, and she hadn't noticed anything unusual.

Professor Membrane reached up and took the doll right out of Dib's hands. "Hm, no wires," he said, examining it. "You must have installed an anti-gravity device! Well done, son! Now, I have very important business to attend to and I need to prepare for my next lecture. Why don't you go spout your nonsense stories to your sister? I've instructed her to listen to what you say and help guide you toward the right path—the path of REAL SCIENCE!"

"Dad, for the last time, I'm not interested in 'real science,'" Dib said. "All I really like is the supernatural! …Except when it leads to me getting kicked out of my own body."

He was interrupted by a scientist running through the doorway, skidding to a stop in the middle of the room. "Professor! That kid of yours is on the news again! He stole a car and hit a telephone pole!"

"WHAT?" Professor Membrane dropped the moose toy on the table. "Son, I've told you time and time again about stealing! These fantasies of yours are turning you into a delinquent!"

"Dad, that wasn't me!" Dib protested, then realized that since he wasn't holding the toy anymore, Professor Membrane couldn't hear him. His dad got up and left the room. Dib snatched up the toy moose and followed, flying out the main door of the building when it opened and lifting into the sky until he was floating high above everything.

"I should've known Dad wouldn't listen to me!" he moaned. "What do I have to do to get someone to help me get my body back? Huh? Huh? _Huh?_"

The Swollen Eyeball Network might help. They might even know what organization it was that Bill was planning to use his body to destroy. It was certainly better than spending all day tracking down Zim, or trying to convince Gaz to help him.

"Okay, I'll try there next," he said to himself, turning and flying off in the direction of TSEN headquarters.

He tried not to think about the fact that if even _they _refused to help him, he was completely out of options and could be stuck like this indefinitely—or at least until Bill grew tired of his body and decided to give it back. But that might not even be a real possibility

If even the Swollen Eyeballs didn't want to help him, then he'd have to handle this on his own, just like usual. Only this time he was a spirit that could barely interact with the real world, facing a mind demon that was likely thousands of years old.

What chance did he possibly stand?

* * *

><p>AN: Dude that new episode last night was awesome, right? I was kind of hoping it would have Bill in it, but it was great all the same. Anyway, there should be one last chapter after this one, and then perhaps an epilogue. Yeeee


	5. The Leap

A/N: Okay, I apologize for this chapter, both for taking so long to finish it and get it up and also for... its existence. I had wanted this to be the last chapter but it quickly became clear that it would've been way too long, so I split it. Next chapter should definitely be the last chapter unless I really do decide to include an epilogue. Anyway, I hope this chapter is still enjoyable.

* * *

><p>Zim gained and lost the upper hand in under two minutes, with everything falling apart almost immediately after Dib left.<p>

The room he had entered was dimly lit. Of course, that didn't really matter to him, since the amazing technology implanted in his eyes allowed him to see almost as well in the dark as he could in bright sunlight. The small group of dark-clothed adult humans he'd forced to huddle together in a corner behind the table were muttering among themselves and staring at him.

These were the ones. Their silhouettes were the same as what he remembered. He could see them in his mind's eye—crashing through the wall of his house, knocking him out, running off with GIR…

Heeeeeey, waitaminute. How _had_ he known they'd taken GIR if he was unconscious at the time? Eh, weird. And wait, there hadn't been a giant gaping hole in the wall of his base when he'd left to search for GIR! Maybe the computer had fixed it? But then he must have lied about not knowing what was going on. What _was_ going on?

Head spinning, he advanced toward the dark-clothed agents of the Swollen Meatball Network or whatever it was called, hands curled tightly by his sides and lips drawn back over his teeth. Whatever was going on, they were behind it. Right? Right.

Something small, hard, and heavy flew at him and smacked him in the center of his forehead. His vision snapped to black for a second.

"AUGH!" He recoiled, scrambling backwards and clenching his hands to his head. "Who did that? Who threw that thing?!"

"And _that_ is the purpose of the salt canister!" the agent who'd thrown it cheered. Zim hissed through his teeth, pulling his hands away and blinking the stars out of his eyes. He whipped his head around to glare at them all.

"Good work, Agent Chupa!" one old human, who looked to be the Tallest—eh, the leader—of the group, said. "Agent Skyfish, Agent Cabra, disable those metallic appendages on its back!"

Two of the shadowy agents in the back jumped forward and drew gun-like objects. They fired at Zim's PAK legs and bindings flew out instead of bullets, twisting around the appendages and tying them together in pairs. Zim lost his balance and stumbled, toppling to the ground and landing on his knees. The two agents that had incapacitated him grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet despite his screams of protest, dragging him toward the others. Mind going blank in a blind panic, he craned his neck down, sinking his teeth into one of the arms holding him.

His eyes flew wide open. _Ugh!_ Human skin! Filthy human skin! In his _mouth!_

He spat it out but the pain he'd caused the agent was enough to make him let go. Zim twisted around and yanked his left arm out of the other human's grip. He vaulted over the table, using his bound PAK legs as best he could to flip it over so it was laying on its side and shoved it forward, slamming it into the enemy agents.

"What did you do with my robot?" he asked for the final time. Spittle flew from his mouth and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"We didn't take any robot of yours," one of the humans replied.

"LIAR!" Zim gripped the edge of the table and leaned over it. "You did! I _saw_ you!"

At that moment, there was a long, low _bloop_ followed by the scratchy sound of microphone interference, causing everyone in the room to look up.

"Someone's messing with the PA system in my office!" the old man realized.

"Hey there!" a voice said over the intercom. Zim recognized it as what Dib had sounded like for the past couple of hours. Strangely, now that the voice was disembodied, he noticed that it didn't actually sound exactly like Dib. Eh? "I have to say, your little capture earlier actually did catch me by surprise! You should be proud! Hah, good luck trying it again, though! Oh, and hey, _Darkbootie, _thanks for leaving things like a knife and a lighter just laying out right on your desk! Handy! Well, I'll be on my way now! This is Dib What's-His-Name signing off!"

"Forget the alien—that demon is our number one priority," the head agent said. "We have to stop him before he gets any farther or we'll all be in grave danger."

Zim stared as every agent shoved right past him and ran out the exit he'd created earlier. Breathing hard, he watched them disappear around a corner and drew himself up. "Yes! Run from ZIM!"

At least their attention was off him for now. He retracted his tied PAK legs as best he could and darted out into the hall, doing a quick turnaround to get his bearings before running into the nearest stairwell. He bounded up a couple of flights of stairs and pushed his way outside again, emerging out in an empty hallway.

It was quieter up here. Zim slipped along the edge of the hall, struggling to get his breathing under control and eyeing the other way suspiciously. It was hard to determine where to go when the walls threatened to close in on him with every passing second. They curved and loomed over him like he was looking at the world through a fisheye lens. He rubbed at his eyes and wiped away the beads of sweat trickling down his clammy forehead, running his tongue over dry lips and swallowing hard. There was no end to this place! Every way he turned there was just another hallway lined with doors, behind which could be lurking shadowy figures—humans who wanted nothing more than to strap him to an autopsy table and slice his belly meats open!

Also, he'd been all over this place and there was no sign of GIR.

"It doesn't matter," Zim said to himself, clenching and unclenching the fingers of one hand. "Perhaps I should go back home and regroup. It'll take forever to find GIR if I keep wandering around aimlessly!" He rubbed his arms. Home was sounding really good right now. Zim growled. "But who _knows_ what they could be doing to GIR this very instant? I _must_ find him!"

He crept down the hallway. Two agents hurried by and he flung his back against the wall, stalling his breathing until they passed. They didn't so much as glance at him but he waited until they turned the corner to peel himself away from the wall and back off, rubbing his hands together and breathing hard. This entire place was out to get him!

Did he still have his wig on, at least? He patted his head. Yes, it was still there. Zim forced himself to relax a bit and uncoil from his tense stance. His disguise would offer protection against these people. He couldn't let his own fears cost him the mission…

Where was Dib? He'd broken the filthy human out of that room and then Dib had run off. Not that Zim needed his help, of course. The very thought nauseated him and gave his squeedily-spooch a sick, twisted feeling. He'd have to find GIR on his own, just like he'd planned from the beginning.

A metal door on the other side of the hall caught his eye. Zim crossed the floor and pulled at the handle. It didn't open. Next to the door on the wall was the familiar hand-scanner that appeared everywhere in this place. Oddly, though, this door also had a retinal scanner. Tacked up next to the doorframe was a sign reading "TOP SECRET. ENTRANCE TO SENIOR MEMBERS ONLY."

Top secret? And even more limited access than usual, eh? It was probably full of top secret stuff! Zim sniffed at the air, but didn't detect anything strange. There certainly wasn't anything living behind that door. What could it be hiding?

He tapped at the door and leaned closer. "GIR?" There was no answer so he knocked harder. "GIR! Are you in there?" Still nothing. Maybe he was just ignoring Zim. Or maybe these people had deactivated his vocal synthesizers somehow. Or maybe he was already—NO. Zim growled in the back of his throat and yanked at the door again. Or maybe GIR wasn't even in that room and Zim was wasting time over nothing! He reached over his shoulder and rooted around in his PAK. His fingers brushed up against the radio on a mechanical arm and he paused. Could he call GIR? No, no, that would bring too much attention to himself!

Would… would it really? He made a little whining noise, screwing up his eyes and pushing the radio away with his fingertips. For some reason he was feeling a strong aversion to using the radio. Maybe something was terribly wrong with it and he was… subconsciously… keeping himself from touching it? Ech, _whatever_, he'd just have to check it over once this whole thing was dealt with. Zim found the scanner in his PAK and gripped it, pulling it out and holding it up to the door. It beeped a little but showed no sign of anything significant being inside. He drooped a little. Better keep looking for GIR somewhere else—WAIT! The scanner glowed green and the beeping intensified. Zim's eyes widened and he backed away from the door. "That's an Irken signal! There's Irken technology in that room!"

Zim flung himself at the door, yanking at the handle and scrabbling at the edges. It didn't budge. "Curse these Swollen Meatballs and their DNA scanners! GIR! Can you hear me?"

When there was still no response, he expanded out his PAK legs and fired high-powered energy beams at the door handle and hinges. It took five tries before they splintered apart; tiny bits of metal flew at him and scored across his skin. The worst of it hit his arms due to the fact that he was using them to shield his face. Good thing Invader uniforms were made of such tough material.

The door fell toward him and he scrambled away, letting it crash to the ground. He peered inside the room. It was poorly lit, but that didn't bother him. He could see well in the dark. And the thing that immediately presented itself was the complete absence of GIR. Instead, there was a bunch of reddish rubble from some kind of machine laid out on a table in the center of the room. Zim padded into the room and picked up one of the pieces, weighing it in his hand and examining it. The color and shape looked kinda familiar. Huh…

Wait a second… Zim dropped the piece like it had burned him, picking up his scanner and doing another scan at close range. The readings confirmed what he'd thought. This was no ordinary _human_ metal. These were remnants of the Megadoomer he'd blown up! What—HOW—

No human should have access to these! What were they planning to do with them? What secrets had they already uncovered? This was the exact reason he'd blown the thing up! (He still sort of regretted that. Dib hadn't even managed to take any actual pictures of it—what a waste of a perfectly good Megadoomer.)

"I should destroy these," he said to himself. Immediately he scraped together all the parts on the table into a pile, then darted around the room and collected every single other thing that looked like an object humans shouldn't have. His innards twisted at the realization that a lot of his own supplies were stored in this room. Not just the Megadoomer, but various other pieces of Irken machinery that had broken. There were a few things made by other alien races in here as well, not to mention a bunch of paranormal junk. In one corner was a wardrobe-type thing—opening it, he found some kind of weird-looking gun that he'd never seen before and didn't appear Irken-made at all. Still, it was hidden in this room, and therefore it needed to die. Around it were a few tube things that looked like they might contain messages of some sort. He tossed all of those into the growing pile until he had it all collected on top of the table.

But how could he get rid of it all? Hadn't the Dib been trying to burn things with matches? Maybe Zim could go find the matches he'd thrown on the ground. Burning these things would be a good head start before the whole building blew up. If Dib hadn't been lying about setting off the self-destruct sequence, of course.

* * *

><p>When Dib reached the deceivingly simple-looking building that housed TSEN headquarters, he automatically flew down and tried to press his palm to the hand scanner by the door. His hand passed right through it.<p>

"Oh. Right." He pulled it back and chewed on his lip. Was there any other way in besides the doors? No, he couldn't recall any. And this time there was no one around to open the doors for him. "I mean, I could just go right through them," he said aloud. "But then I'd have to leave this dumb toy behind and… yeah."

Maybe there'd be a Voodoo doll or something laying around inside that he could use. Either way, he couldn't just wait out here for someone to come along and open the door. He had to find his fellow Eyeball agents and figure out a way out of this mess as soon as possible.

He dropped the doll on the ground and phased through the metal door into the hall beyond. It was deserted. Huh… that was kind of unusual for this time of day.

"Agent Darkbootie?" he called, moving forward and glancing around. "Agent Tunaghost? …Agent Nessie? Where is everyone?"

He drifted into the hall lined with elevators and passed through one of the pairs of double doors, shooting all the way down the elevator shaft until he emerged out in the lobby many floors underground. Immediately he caught sight of a number of agents clustered around the front desk at the other end of the room.

"Hey! I need help!" Dib flew over to them, but none looked up. Of course, without the doll, no one could hear him. "What's going on, anyway?"

He finally noticed what the gathering was about. The receptionist who was always at the desk had her head resting on it, her shoulders rising up and down as she emitted loud, obnoxious snores. She was fast asleep. Her hair hung from her head in limp, wet strands and there was a puddle of water surrounding her face on the wooden desk.

"Nothing I've tried works!" one of the agents wailed, throwing an empty cup that sailed right through Dib's hair scythe. "Pouring water on her didn't work, loud noises didn't work, what _happened_ to her?"

The agent standing next to that guy nudged him in the ribs and leaned closer. "Last I heard, Darkbootie thought it had something to do with demonic possession. I mean, did you hear that guy talking over the PA? Maybe that was him! Maybe she had a run-in with him! We haven't had a case like this in years…"

"Possession?" Dib repeated. His gaze traveled from the sleeping receptionist to the agents and back again. Sleeping so deeply that she couldn't be woken up… and Bill Cipher was a dream demon…

Dib turned and raced back to the elevators. Bill was somewhere in this building! And he was attacking people! Or putting them under enchantments, anyway. Oh, man. Dib was going to find that overgrown nacho chip and give him a piece of his mind.

His heart skipped a beat at his own words, recalling that Bill probably had the power to _actually _take a piece of his mind. He shoved that thought away.

The floor above the lobby, when he checked it, was bustling with agents running to and fro from Agent Darkbootie's office at the end of the hall. They sounded like they were trying to split up into search parties. It didn't take three guesses to try to figure out who or what they might be searching for.

He tried the floor above that. It was empty and silent, though he had no idea how much he might have been missing since he only did a quick fly around to look for his body.

He reached the next floor, the seventh (since the floors extended underground as basement levels rather than upwards, they were numbered backwards) and was about to start another search when—

"Looking for someone?"

Dib whirled around, choking back a cry of alarm. "Bill!" He recoiled.

The small figure that emerged from the shadows of a doorway looked even worse than he had hours ago, when Bill had cheerfully driven off in a stolen car and left Dib behind. At least then he'd just had a bloody nose and watery eyes from eating jalapeños slathered in maple syrup. Now he was dirty, his hair was a mess, his wrists looked raw and chafed like he'd been bound with rope, and he had evidently made no attempt to clean the dried blood off his nose.

"Took you long enough to get here!" the demon said, grinning and walking toward Dib with his hands in his pockets. "I was beginning to think you'd never figure it out!"

"Figure it out…?" Dib stared at him blankly. Then, suddenly, it hit him. "You never wanted to take down an evil organization! The organization you wanted to destroy was the Swollen Eyeballs all along, wasn't it?"

"Ding ding ding!" Bill laughed. "Honestly, I thought it was stupidly obvious! I mean I left you enough hints, didn't I? And you still didn't catch on until just now! Hahaha!" He wiped at his eye. "Anyway, fun's fun, but now I need to get back to business. Hey, since you've decided to show up, I guess this means you get to watch!"

"It won't work!" Dib flew down in front of him, jabbing at him with his ghostly finger. "The Eyeballs are the most knowledgeable paranormal experts in the world! They know possession when they see it, and they won't let you get away until you get out of my body!"

"Won't let me get away? Haha, kid, guess what already happened!" Bill indicated his raw wrists. "Looks like I got away just fine! That Darkbootie guy ties a mean knot, but hey, even the best knots can't hold up against one of these babies!" He reached into his pocket, drew out a switchblade, and tossed it in the air with the blade flashing before catching it by the handle and stowing it away again. Dib pulled at the skin under his eyes with his fingertips. Where had Bill found a _knife? _Just—_where? _Why was this even happening?

"Anyway, I'm almost done here! Tag along if you want!" Bill walked past him and started down the hall.

Dib flew after him, his hands shaking. "So all this time you were just _using_ me to get to the Eyeballs?"

"You got that right, Frowny-Face!"

Dib squeezed his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose behind his glasses. "And you never really cared about helping me expose Zim at all, did you! _Man…_"

"Of course not! Excellent detective skills!"

He huddled his arms around his chest, gripping his shoulders and suddenly feeling very, very cold. Bill was going to use his body to destroy the one real connection Dib had with other people who believed in the same things he did, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Why are you even doing this?" he demanded, unfolding his arms. "What do you have to gain by destroying this place?"

"You didn't guess by what was in the clock I had you steal?" Bill smiled.

"I didn't steal it! I was going to leave money."

"Nah, you totally stole it! Hahaha! But seriously, all I want to do is get rid of some of the information they've got here, collect something from a room your friend kindly opened up for me, and then blow the place up!"

"Blow it up?" Dib cried. "What's the _matter_ with you? You threw yourself down the stairs and stuffed hot peppers in your mouth, started fires in my room, and nearly killed me by crashing a car into a telephone pole! Now you're going to blow up this whole building?"

"That's the plan!"

"But—but—" Dib, struggling to think of a coherent argument against this development, looked the demon up and down and raised an eyebrow. "What—hey, wait, how are you even still standing? You're hurt all over and I was up all night last night trying to escape zombies in the mall!"

Bill looked back at Dib with a smile. "Oh, that's easy! The human body's actually pretty durable! Watch!" He made a fist, drew back his arm, and punched the wall hard enough to dent it. Dib gasped. Bill wrung his hand, flexing the fingers. The knuckles had started bleeding. "Haha. See? My hand didn't even get crushed! That reminds me, I've been wanting to see what it would take to actually crush a human hand! Want to find out?"

"_No!_" Dib said. What had he done to deserve this?! Was Bill actually this insane and masochistic or was the demon just messing with him in a really nasty way?

"Yeah, I might try that later. All right, back on track!" Bill walked straight to a room that was missing its door with a sickened Dib following closely behind. Dib had to do a double take at the sight of the room, noticing that the door had actually fallen forward and was lying flat on the ground.

"This is the top secret room that no one's allowed into!" Dib said. "Wait, who did you say did this?"

"That weird alien kid in the pink dress. You know, the one you summoned me to mess with in the first place?" Bill laughed. "He's pretty amusing! And so predictable it's almost stupid!"

"_Zim's_ here?!"

"Yep! Did I forget to mention that?" Bill headed into the room, where there was a table piled with all sorts of junk. Dib hovered over the pile, staring at it, while Bill disappeared into the back of the room for a moment. There was Irken equipment here. A room full of broken Irken equipment?

TSEN had collected a room full of pieces of Irken equipment and no one had once thought to mention it to him? Who had spent months studying Irkens? Who was the foremost expert on Irkens here? Dib fumed. When he finally managed to get his body back from this thieving triangle demon, he would go confront Agent Darkbootie about this.

Bill arrived back next to him. He'd picked up a cloth satchel somewhere and reached out to the pile, picking up some weird tube things lying there and stuffing them in the bag.

"Did you know that this organization came up with the idea for a memory-wiping gun first?" he said in response to Dib's questioning look. "They were working on it decades ago and had a guy helping them out! Took some of his important memories as tests, too! And later he went on to write journals about paranormal happenings and told his research assistant all about the memory gun!" Bill snickered. "Man, if you were Pine Tree, you would be all over that information. Good thing it's completely irrelevant to you! Anyway, I'm saving these!" He closed up the satchel with the tubes inside.

All that only gave Dib more questions but the demon didn't offer any further explanation, instead walking around the room to make sure that everything was piled up. "Wow, look at all this other stuff! You people aren't playing around! Does anyone here even have a job?"

"This _is_ a job!" Dib said, frowning. "And yeah, plenty of people here have other jobs!"

"What, you mean like being janitors?" Bill pulled a lighter out of the opposite pocket from where he'd put the knife and waved it at Dib. "Look what else I found lying around! Nifty, huh? You'd think paranormal 'experts' like these bozos would lock up knives and lighters to keep them out of supernatural hands! Oh well!" He clicked on the lighter and held the flame to an object at the bottom of the pile. The little fire was bright white and caught quickly, even though Dib was pretty sure metal shouldn't really be able to catch fire like that. "Light 'em up!"

"_What? _Stop!" Dib rushed at the lighter and tried to beat out the fire. Just like with what happened in his room, however, he could do nothing, and he ended up pulling away with his eyes stinging.

The tiny flame licked at the rubble, then flared up and ate more hungrily at it, spreading over the table. It burned so searing hot that Dib could almost feel it. What kind of fire was this? There was something supernatural about it, that was for sure. He could only watch, biting his lip, as paranormal and alien evidence went up in flame. This just wasn't fair.

"You're crazy!" he said at last to Bill.

"Hah! That's always a laugh, coming from a human!" Bill turned to look at the ceiling, locking eyes on a single sprinkler mounted there, and weighed the lighter in his hand before pitching forward and throwing it just as a shrill beeping noise started up. The lighter hit the sprinkler and snapped the end right off. Both items dropping to the floor; water started pouring from the broken sprinkler system in a steady stream down to the ground but none of it hit the pile of burning artifacts. "Well, I'm outta here!"

Bill picked up the lighter again, wiped it dry on his jacket, and ducked back out of the room. Dib lingered for a moment to watch the burning pile with an empty, hollowed-out feeling. Then he passed through the door after Bill.

"There he is!" someone exclaimed. Dib and Bill looked down the hall to see two agents (Dib couldn't identify them at this distance) running toward them.

"Oh-ho, this is getting interesting!" Bill laughed. He turned tail and fled in the opposite direction with his coattails flying, swinging around a corner and disappearing from view.

"Nice job shouting at him, genius," one of the agents berated the other as they chased after him. Dib took off in pursuit and caught up with Bill far ahead of the agents. The demon had skidded to a halt in the hall of elevators and had wedged his fingers in the crack between one of the sets of doors, trying to force them open.

"What are you doing _now?_" Dib rushed forward.

"Elevator's not working in this one!" Bill laughed. "I'd like to see them try to follow me!"

"Follow you? What—_WHAT?_"

The agents rounded the corner and charged after him. Bill pried the doors open to reveal a dark, yawning gap, and twisted around to give the pursuers a demented wave. "Try and catch me, suckers!"

He leapt forward into the abyss and the doors crashed closed behind him.

"Whoa! Whoa!" The two agents skidded to a halt in front of the elevators and backtracked. "What _now?_"

Dib's mind had gone blank. Heart in his throat, he phased through the doors and found… Bill, clinging to a handhold a couple of feet down on the opposite wall of the shaft.

"Oh my _gosh._" The words just slipped out. Dib deflated and hung limp in the air for a moment. "You pretty much just gave me a heart attack."

"Well, you'll be happy to know that that's physically impossible in your state!" the demon said.

Fury welled up in Dib's chest and he had to resist the urge to punch Bill in his smug face. Not only would it be useless, but he'd be attacking _himself. _"Stairs!" he yelled, gesticulating wildly. "There were stairs right outside! Why didn't you just use the stairs?! You nearly killed me—_again! _Besides, those two agents could just open up the doors and follow you down, you know."

"Nah, both of them are terrified of heights." Bill's feet scrabbled at the wall until they found purchase and held firm. He reached up, found another handhold, and began to scale the wall more quickly than Dib would ever have thought. Maybe he was using spooky demon wall-climbing powers or something.

Also how did Bill know that those two were afraid of heights? Oh, never mind.

"Well, great." Dib floated up after him. "How are you even going to get out of here? You're not gonna climb up higher and then just jump down, are you?"

Bill gave him a smirk. "Look, Bighead, if I planned on falling I would've fallen already."

"Don't call me 'Bighead.'"

"Sure, fine. Whoops!" Bill's foot slipped and he was left dangling by his fingertips. Dib yelped and dove down, frantically trying to think of a way that he could catch his body before the demon made him plummet to his death. However, Bill just laughed and easily regained his footing, grinning down at Dib under his arm. "Gotcha! Geez, kid, you're like the jumpiest freak I've seen in ages! You need to loosen up! No wonder your sister hates you!"

Dib backed away a little, stung. "Gaz doesn't hate me."

"Really? You sure about that? I don't see her clamoring to come up here and help you out of the sticky situation you've gotten yourself into!" The demon chuckled. "She's just standing down in the lobby not doing anything!"

Dib gave a start. "Gaz is in the _lobby? _How'd she even get in here? How did _Zim_ get in here?"

"I dunno, but hey, how fast do you think that fire on the seventh floor will spread? Too bad there's no escape from the lobby except right up into the flames!"

There was no hesitation. Dib flipped over and dove back down the elevator shaft, heading right to the lobby once more.

* * *

><p>Zim was pretty sure that the floor where he'd dropped the matches was the one nearly at the top, right below the ground level. He took the stairs all the way up and by the time he arrived decided that he never wanted to see another step again. This floor looked the same as all the others but it only took a quick search to find the room that Dib had wanted him to burn things in. Matches were scattered on the floor. He scrabbled around on the ground, gathering them all up and tucking them into the pockets of his uniform. He also found the box, pushing that into his pocket too.<p>

When he had collected them all he climbed back to his feet and ran for the door to the stairwell, skipping down the stairs until he felt sure he had arrived back at the floor with the secret room. He left the stairwell and turned a couple of corners. At the last one, a wave of heat hit him like he was standing too close behind a spaceship that was taking off.

The _entire hall_ in front of him was aflame in glowing white fire.

It was too hot, and it was spreading too quickly, dancing toward him a couple more feet as he watched wide-eyed. He stumbled backwards with a shriek, spinning around and pelting back toward the stairs.

…Wait, where were the stairs?!

Why was everything going wrong?


End file.
